The Chronicles of Etinerra

The Doom of Man has fallen upon the Lands.

Beláldur's Last Voyage?

Beláldur sits alone at a table, the room lit only by the lamp light resting on top of it. Near at hand is a sheet of parchment, a quill, and a small bottle of ink. The elf stares at the parchment for some time, then picks up the quill and begins to write:

To my companions,

He stops, quickly scratches out the words, and begins again:

_My friends,

I’ll be leaving at dawn, to head East towards Irecia.

I know the dangers are great, but the danger of what may be coming from there, and not knowing about it or being prepared for it are much, much greater. Even some small scrap of information that I may be able to bring back by scouting the enemy may wind up meaning the difference between victory or disaster. I must take the chance.

I will go alone, both because I cannot burden anyone else with this risk, and because my odds of moving about undetected are better by myself. A lone fish escapes the net where the whole school gets trapped in it.

Among my people, it is customary for a seaman to write a Sailor’s Will when he is about to head out on a voyage he may not return from. So now, my head being clear of clouds, I write this testament:

To Ragar, I leave my Legionnaires’ bow and Legionnaires’ dagger. A good hunter requires good tools, and in Ragar’s hands I believe they will be put to good use.

To Pyria, I leave the last of my gems. She may have them fashioned into jewelry of course, to compliment her amazing outfits, but I suspect she’ll trade them for components for plying her craft. If there’s one thing I know about wizards, it’s that the supplies needed to do magic are expensive. I hope these will help.

To Fergus, I leave my prized pipe and special leaf from Parabellum’s shop. I know Fergus is very serious when it comes to fighting, but the times I’ve enjoyed with him the most have been when he’s joking around, not taking the world, or himself, quite so seriously. I leave these to him as a reminder that sometimes you have to relax and enjoy the voyage.

To Mazlor, I leave my gold and brown cloak. I had a dream that is shared by some of the others, that there would one day be a group of riders willing to patrol these lands, keeping people safe and giving swift warning when new dangers arose. I know Mazlor has a dream too, that one day the followers of the Light will unite to defeat the darkness. I leave the Enonian Falcon cloak to him as a reminder that some dreams are worth fighting for to the end, no matter how much the odds are stacked against you. Gold is the color of the rising sun, Mazlor.

To Balto, I leave a map to a certain well that I’m certain he also remembers. He’s free to go back there and find more treasures, but I also leave him this suggestion, that he take the map to a certain friend of ours we’ve met a few times at the Militiaman and Bawd. In exchange for that map, I believe that his prestige will rise highly within a certain organization. There are more ways to grow than how the plants do it, my friend… just be sure to ask for a percentage of the profits, too.

To Borean, I leave instructions on how to find where I have buried a box containing a couple of items. I ask that he deliver one of them to one of the Sisters in Old Fawn. The other, he is free to keep until he finds someone that he deems worthy of it, someone fit to rule. I trust the warrior of the north’s judgment best of all in this, and he’ll know which item goes to whom. Be sure to send my love to Nannon as well, Borean.

To Grel, I leave my letter of credit, on the condition that he swears an oath to one day ride north and deliver half of it to the most needy of the elven ships that he finds there. I know that once his word is given, nothing in the world will make him break it. And also to Grel, I leave my leather headband, which I wore at times to honor our fallen friend Ja’Kar. Perhaps he will be good enough to take it to Jorann, as a reminder to both of them that sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the greater good.

That rest of my worldly possessions I leave to the captain of this fort, who was good enough to store and guard these items for me.

Balto’s Journal

Travelers to and from the town of Pella’s Wish (near Yew) had been disappearing without a trace since the middle of Spring. No signs of struggle, the goods they were taking to market never showed up in another vendors’ cart, no one was running around flush with coin from robbing them. Ynnivax and Mazlor asked Fergus, Josef, Willie, Pyria and me to look into it, and we brought with us some new companions – a couple of rangers, Beth and Airk, and the cheerful Rani, a littling like myself, a thief/fighter.

We reached Pella’s Wish on the eve of the 43rd day of Summer. It had been abandoned during last year’s war on the orcs and their unnatural allies. Some villagers had returned to restore their farms and rebuild the houses. We talked with the headman, Thomas, and the local lord, Pisani, who thought goblins were responsible for the loss of the four dozen or so people who’d been snatched away since the 35th day of Spring.

Boraen and Talvi, accompanied by other tribesfolk – Toraq, Einar, Nana, and Duna – joined us in Pella’s Wish. And then Wikton wandered over with a sardonic grin to assure he bore Fergus and me no ill will. He’d been tinkering about after his release from durance vile in the south. That evening, we wandered to the wishing pool that had given Pella’s Wish its name. I wished for gems and good food; I expect Fergus asked for his hair back. I don’t know about the others.

The next morning, Talvi got the scent of one of the disappeared and we set off, she and the two rangers leading us on foot. We took the trail towards the littleling castle, just a track through the grasslands, scarcely wide enough for a wagon or a couple of riders. There were evident signs of a heavily weighted group ahead of us – they must have come up from the south and skirted Pella’s Wish while we had first breakfast. When we got underway after second breakfast, they were a good 2-3 hours in front.

At dusk, Talvi, Pyria, Rani, and I spied the smoke of their campfire. The rangers and I crept up to a copse near their camp, while Talvi and Beth edged close on the other side. We watched and listened as a good dozen or so men set up a camp and a picket for their four horses. No special alert or tension in these travelers.

Until, that is, when Rani popped up and introduced herself. Beth and I came up to support Rani, explained about the missing villagers, asked if we can join camps, as the main party rushed up and Airk dropped from the trees to join us. Taken aback by our numbers, they are nonetheless polite.
These travelers, though, were a bit evasive. Theirleader, Dunmore, would not tell us of his mission. They had come up from Dracott, so Willie and Josef were among neighbors, at least. They seemed to want to stay out of the maddening and often bloody religious squabble. Dunmore said the Lightbringers had gone too far, and lamented the incursions of the orcs. But he is noncommittal on law vs. chaos, and took offense when the ever-tactful Boraen as much as accused him of being a slaver. We withdrew to the grove for the night.

The next morning, they left as we were policed our camp. Theirs, too –they’d left the fire unbanked and ground littered in their haste. We rode a few miles behind them, came to a crossroads, with a heavily-traveled trail to the east. Dunmore’s party went on north past the crossing, but we hoped this was a clue to the whereabouts of the villagers. At the end of the path I saw a copse of trees, enclosed by a tall hedge, a single opening to the south. This seemed a druid’s circle, but I felt little peace.

Boraen called out a greeting to those within, and perhaps a dozen humans come out to make us welcome. We asked about the disappeared – and Thomas’ wife Crystal pushed to the front, apparently unharmed. Others from their party were also here, but one did not pass some test and thus died. That sounded like some of the rougher druidic mysteries – where you overcome an obstacle or are destroyed by it.

Most of our party headed off in pursuit of Dunmore. I had to stay to root this out, and Wikton agreed to accompany me on the test. Rani stayed to spy out the village. Fergus, Josef and Wllie decided to spend some time together.

So Wikton and I were escorted to the test area, climbed down a ladder into the ground. Leading away from the pit bottom was a tunnel, walls covered in vines. Wikton and I came to a place where the vines flowered red. I had just about decided the villagers were using poppies, thus their glassy-eyed calm. But poppies, though red, don’t have trumpet flowers.

We heard a tumbling behind us and found Fergus, Willie and Josef in a pile, coming to and untangling themselves. A little to the side was Rani, groggy and angry at being attacked. The ladder Wikton and I had used to gain access was gone! Looks like we all would take the test. Perhaps this circle would become mine and some of my company might join me in keeping the circle. I won’t write the tests we had to pass, but with my leadership, we went through a puzzle maze quite quickly. We’d all have been accepted as initiates into a druidic school. But there were more challenges ahead.

Where there should have been a gathering of higher-level druids to question and test us, there were in fact five, garbed and armed for ritual battle.
Wikton hurled his hammer and charged. I quickly cast faerie fire, limning all our foes. The chief druid and two of his acolytes were quickly killed. Rani tied up the last two, and I took the chief druid’s staff and bracers. I assumed leadership of the circle by default.

We went on into a great cavern, arching high over our heads with vines and roots, limbs and leaves all over the walls and dipping into the shallow pool to one side. While we checked along the walls for an exit, a large leaf plunged down and covered Fergus’ face! We tried peeling and slashing at it, ripped it free and into bits just as Fergus felt he was breathing his last! The shredded leaf fell to the floor, the gentle light in the chamber disappeared, and much lamenting came from the captured druids in the last room. The vines shriveled away, revealing the entrance to a chamber holding boxes and chests – and a few skeletons!

Another exit led out into the village, where we found all the people stunned and weeping. The longer they’d been controlled, the worse off they were – our captive druids the worst of all. We waited overnight, and the most recently captured had largely recovered. The rest of our party rode back in, accompanied us all (save a small party heading for Yew to sing our praises!) back to Pella’s Wish. We used the horses and carts to take the goods and treasure with us, tried to be fair in the division of spoils and still leave some for the villagers. I think I’ll pass these bracers on to Pyria, so she has some protection, maybe can get some more spells off. And the good will of a magic user is surely worth something!

The Chronicles of Børæn

“To me Wolves, too me!” Yells Børæn as he leaves the tent.

Reluctant eyes turn and upon seeing Móðir Mother) and the Merkitä Muistiin emerge behind the large warrior, the mood shifts. This is the Wolf Tribe’s King. Though young, it is by his actions that he showed all he is not his father.

“My brothers and sisters of the Wolf, the time for celebration must be put on hold…”

The crowd mutters, but when the Móðir raises her hand, all go silent.

“Evil is afoot. Some will call it Chaos. Some will call it the inevitable destiny of not just the Wolf, and the Northern Tribes, but of all of us, to be consumed by this darkness. I do not care, this blackness has infected everything we hold dear.” Børæn pauses as his words wash over his tribe. Tribesmen look to each other in worry, confusion, but more look angry. They sense a war is brewing, and the death of the Shadow is just the start of something that will be a time of challenge. “The Clan of No Name is but one example. The Shadow is just another as well. This evil, if left unchecked, will destroy not only what we hold dear, but this entire world.”

The crowd goes silent. Børæn has given word too what many have felt.

“I have fought this evil first hand. My sword and axe have cut a bloody swath through it. Talvi and I have hunted it, and have worked to protect who we can. Yet, despite this, the evil grows.”

Hearing her name Talvi appears at Børæn’s side. Seeing her, many realize that the tribe has changef. The Shadow King is dead, and a new light has appeared.

She looks at the man she sees as her cub, and Børæn feels her eyes upon him. The two look at each other, and Børæn feels through their shared bond her pride. As quick as the feeling came, it is quickly replaced with annoyance. “Get on with it cub,” she seems to scold Børæn. Stifling a laugh Børæn looks out at the crowd.

“I have been to the lands of the South. The evil infects everything. An ancient city is now a kingdom of Orcs…”

“There will come a day when we will ride as one and remove that rot, but today is not that day. We must be strong, stronger than we are now.”

Torpo, who has watched in silence nods his head toward Móðir (Mother). They share a glance. They know now, without any doubt, the true Wolf King is here.

“My friends, I know I have arrived, but I have much to do in the South…”

Hearing this, the crowd grows uneasy. Again Børæn raises his hand and all go silent.

“My path takes me from my people. I must fight battles that are my own. The Wolf is not ready for what is to come. We have been weakened by a poison that has just begun to be drained from this tribe.”

Looking at the crowd, Børæn feels something deep within him change. He feels humble. He feels pride. He feels as if the missing parts of him have been found. He also feels the familiar touch of his goddess and he smiles.

“I must go,” the crowd murmurs and again Børæn silences them. “I must go to fight. A fight I must do alone. If I do not do this, I will not be worthy of being your King.”

Hearing this a cheer begins, and oaths are sworn. There is a joy to this, and there is pride in this. What was once a dying wolf, has now found a new life.

“While I am gone, the Wolf will be cared for. Móðir and the Merkitä Muistiin will watch over you, and together they will help you heal.”

Hearing this, the crowd bows their heads to the two, and soon the crowd chants “Sinun sanasi on laki! (Your word is law.)”

The chant grows louder, it rings through the valley, it fills the tribe with hope. It pierces the blackness which smothered it for so long. Even Torpo and Mother chant this.

Raising his hand again, a hush goes over the crowd.

“I ride South, but I will not ride alone. What good is a wolf without his pack? Who will ride with your King?”

The crowd shifts and murmurs. All think about what this choice means. Suddenly a woman steps forward. Short of stature, hair long and brown, and a patch covering her right eye, she commands respect (and perhaps some fear). She stands proud and she stands as if she knows this moment has been her destiny. She knows that here, right now, her Lore has begun.

“I am Nanna One Eye, warrior of the Rabbit Clan. I will ride with you my King,’ she says in a strong voice.

“I am honored to ride with you Nanna of the Rabbit.”

Hearing this a cheer goes up among the gathered Rabbit Clan. For so long they have suffered under the yoke of the past. Now, however, they know that the tribe has truly changed.

As if a dam burst, others begin yelling out and pushing to step forward. Suddenly two emerge from the crowd. One, a woman, hair of gold, dressed in furs, and wearing the markings of a Druid. The other is but a boy, perhaps no more than 16.

“I am Tófa of the Horse Clan, and I have a calling my path follows yours. I have had visions of a wolf, whose Lore is destined to entwine with mine. I will gladly stand by your side my King and aid you in your fight. That is if you will have me?”

Børæn smiles, “Thunder is your name, yet you wear the trappings of a Druid?”

“I hear a calling,” Tófa responsefs solemnly. “It is a tug. No? A growing wind that pushes me. I must do this.”

“Mesha,” Børæn says. “In all things I honor you. Step forward Tófa I am blessed by Mesha to have you by my side.” As she stands at her King’s side, the Horse Clan cheers in pride. As a breaking storm it fills the valley, and all who hear it, know the Horse once again roam the land.

“Do not be a fool boy,” yells Torpo. “You do not know what you are doing!”

Børæn looks to his old friend. “Why are you, angry old friend?”

“He is Einarr my grandson. Useless with the Lore; unskilled in the skills of his people; nothing more than a dreamer too busy to learn,” snaps Torpo.

Looking at the boy, Børæn smiles. He was Einarr’s age when he set off on his path. He looks in the eyes of the youth and sees a strength there. A smoldering spark that will bloom into a raging fire. This strength will not be found here, with Wolf. He will find it with Børæn and when the boy returns all will see his strength.

“Your name fits you Einarr, you are a lone warrior. Do you have the strength to stand at my side?” Børæn says simply.

Einarr looks into Børæn’s eyes and stands as tall as he can.

He tries to look solemn.

He fails.

He tries to look serious.

He fails.

None of those expressions are right for the youth.

Instead, he smiles.

“My King I am ready. I will not waver. I will not flee. I will show courage when racing into battle. I will be your shield. I am a wolf, and I know my duty as one. I will not fail you.”

Torpo begins to yell, and Børæn glares at his old friend. It is a harsh look, filled with anger and rage. It is a look a King gives to a warrior who has failed to uphold his oaths. Taken aback by this, Torpo goes quite.

“Your clan boy?” Børæn asks.

“I am Einarr of the Eagle Clan!”

Hearing this the gathered Eagles cheer with pride.

“Einarr of the Eagle Clan I will be proud to have you at my side,” Børæn says loudly so all know that the weak are able to be strong when they hear the call.

Horses are brought, and each member of the company huddle with their clans. Oaths are sworn, blessings are given, and together they bask in the joy of what is to come. All know that because of this, their clans have changed, and have changed for the better.

“What in the Hells are you thinking boy!” Torpo snaps at Børæn. “My grandson is not strong, he is weak. He will fail you during the first battle he has. Do not bring him…”

Børæn spins, and his anger flares. Talvi growls, and in that growl there is anger. Torpo swallows what he was about to say. He looks at the boy, now a man, and for the first time knows fear.

“If anyone else said what you said, I would draw my axe and end their life where they stand,” growls Børæn. “It is only because I see you as a father that I do not do that now. Einarr is as old as I was when I fled the Wolf. There is a strength there and you dishonor him by your words and deeds.”

The two stare at each other and the old man looks away, bowing his head in shame.

“This old friend is the only time I will forgive you. Though you watch the Wolf while I go south, I am your King. My word is my honor. I will not have you question my honor. Do. You. Understand?”

As quick as the anger came, it leaves, and Børæn smiles, placing his hand on Torpo’s shoulder.

“All is forgiven, old friend. I know you speak from love, and not malice. I know you worry about the boy. He will be fine, I swear it. Mesha guides me, and Mesha’s Will protects. Einarr will return, and he will make you proud.”

As the goodbyes are finished and the supplies are packed each member gathers around Børæn. Talvi seeing these new people looks at each as if she is appraising them. This does not go unnoticed by the three, and in truth, unnerves them.

“Pay her no mind, Talvi is the mother wolf, she sees me as her cub,” Børæn chuckles. In response, Talvi looks at Børæn and glares as if scolding him. For a second, the two look into each other’s eyes. Suddenly Børæn laughs, and Talvi barks and wags her tail, happily. The three look at each other. They know this is the Wolf King.

Drawing Lohikäärme Hammas, Børæn slices it across his right palm. Handing the ancient dagger to each of his new companions, they too draw the dagger across their right palm.

Holding his hand out, and each one clasps their hands with each other.

“Are you ready? You face a long path, are you sure in your choice?”

“Yes, my King,” Tofa speaks. Her voice is hard but sure. Her face is grim.

(“Blood for blood. Lore with lore. Honor with honor. Life for life. I stand with you and I fight with you. We are bonded.”)

Each state, solemnly. They know now, without any doubt, this is their path.

With that Børæn smiles.

“We ride as one. Mesha guides us. Though Mesha is a fickle one, she has faith in me. I have faith in her. What we do is for her and for this tribe. We will be tested. We will shed blood. We will see things that make weak warriors run in fear.”

The three look at their king in wonder. They hang on each word. Tofa’s eyes go wide when she hears Mesha’s name.

“No matter what happens remember this: we are the Wolf. We strike with no fear. We hunt as one. We kill as one. We watch out for each other. It is a good omen that Horse, Rabbit, Eagle, Axe, and Sword are joined. Now let’s ride.”

As they leave the valley, Einarr rides close to Børæn.

“My King.”

“It is Børæn Einarr. I am not your King right now. I am Børæn.”

“Yes my… Børæn.” Einarr responds. “What should I call us?”

Chuckling, the response is simple “Just like your grandfather, heh? You are keeping the Lore Einarr, you decide.”

Riding back, his two companions look at him and smile.

“The Four Warriors.” Nanna simply responds.

“No, ‘The Wild’s Warriors’, sounds right,” Tófa answers.

“No those do not feel right. They are good, mind you, but not right,” answers Einarr.

“You are not a Merkitä Muistiin yet, Einarr. Do not pout. You will have many opportunities to become one,” laughs Nanna and smiles at her new companion.

“Yes, Nanna is right. Just make sure you get our names right,” chuckles Tófa and winks at the boy.

Joining his two friends in the joking the three laugh.

As they ride, Børæn smiles. He is happy. He is proud. He is grateful. He whispers a prayer of thanks to Mesha and lets the rhythm of the ride take over. He listens to the three talk, boast, and laugh. It is a sound that pleases him.

“You do not know what you ride toward,” he thinks to himself. “You do not know what you will face. Yet, you are strong, stronger then you think you are. At the end of this, we will be more than Companions. More than a Pack. We will be of Blood.”

Grel’s report

Dark times have come to the land of men!
It all started out fairly ordinary. We decided to go take a look around Irecia to see what the Dark Ones might be up to. We decided to head out on foot so we could be less conspicuous. Immediately after we left the woods, we saw the remains of the orc camp. We decided to look around. almost immediately we were set upon by a hail of arrows. The Goblins hiding in the grass were impossible to find, let alone fight. Eventually, they ran off and we resumed our search. We found some truly gruesome remains in the shaman’s tent. We decided to burn it all and resume our journey.
Almost immediately we were beset by the same goblins! They were too fast and mobile to fight. We decided we needed to return and get our horses.
Mounted, we were able to ride through the ambush with only minor injuries. We continued on and saw smoke and signs of habitation in the hamlets off the road. We decided to take a look. The hamlets were all occupied by the Orcs! They were settling!
We continued on and made it to the wayfarers’ inn. We spied a wagon of orcs with chained humans and decided to engage.
The beasts dared to fire upon Arion!!! I was forced to leap in front of the arrows to ensure his safety. I will not be bringing him into battle again until his barding is ready! We took care of them and tried to free the humans, but they were townsfolk from Kolwith. It has been overrun. Their families are held hostage and they would not leave them. We were forced to let them go.
The next morning, There was an awful darkness and an explosion and suddenly, I was cut off from Tangadorin completely!! I am certain a Dark one has entered into our realm! We saw the light and darkness centered over Irecia, and a smaller one off to the south of the woods.
who have lived my life without fear, quaked in my boots. With the dDark Ones free, and Tangadorin cut off from his worshippers, there was no hope. I felt completely lost.
We decided to return to Enonia, we were not yet ready for this new darkness…..

All eyes turn to the door of the hall as the winter’s wind ushers in the old man.

Orpo.

There is another name he is known for. Though he is the Merkitä Muistiin, it is a title he wears uncomfortably.

He is Orpo.

The man, despite his age, is still as resilient as he was as a youth. Scars cross his body, and each one is a reminder that at one time this man was a warrior. Though his days of roaming and fighting are long past, no one doubts that if need be Orpo would be the first in battle with the axe in hand.

The old man walks, the hall is not crowded. It is still day, despite the fact it is Long Night. Making his way to the front, those in the hall bow in respect to Orpo. Though he does not think himself as a Merkitä Muistiin, the tribe does, and respect is given.

Sitting at the far end of the hall are two thrones. One is large, imposing, and covered in the pelts of creatures killed. One would think that the throne is not beautiful, but that would be wrong. The throne is carved and resembles a flowering tree. The branches weave and entwine forming the throne from which Børæn has ruled.

Next to this throne is a delicate one, smaller in size, but whose beauty is only out shown by the woman who sits upon.

Fríđr.

Peacebringer.

Queen of the Wolf.

Chuckling to himself, Orpo reflects that it took one whose name means peace, to sooth the moody Børæn.

Her voice is of the spring, soft, gentle, and musical. It is a voice of a woman who seeks to understand and offers comfort. It is the counter to Børæn’s voice of rage. Together these two voices have weaved a song that has brought much to the People of the Wolf.

“Only your husband my dear. I still am not sure how you did not laugh when he fumbledthe words of his love to you,” Orpo laughs.

‘’If I wanted to marry a poet, I would have. Instead I married a man honest with who he is,” the queen looks at the old man and smiles..

“You asked to see me, my Queen. I am here,” Orpo simply states.

“Yes, dear friend. Come sit with me.”

Standing the queen walks to a table and sits, as she does a servant brings two mugs of spiced wine. Orpo, sitting across from his queen, and with an audible sigh, rests.

Without any pretense, Fríđr speaks.

“I know today is an important day in this tribe’s lore. It is the day that Børæn returned and avenged the wrongs. It is the day that he became king, and it is the day that set forth the path that would bring my headstrong, fierce, but loving wolf into my life.”

“You speak truly my Queen. This is the day,” Orpo says simply.

“Børæn has told me that this day marks something else, something that truly changed him, and set him on his path of being a warrior-priest. He told me for that on this day he saw his true path, and accepted his rôle in this life.”

“Yes my Queen, this is that day,” Orpo answers knowing what is to be asked next.

“But what was this event? Børæn tries to tell me, but in his typical way. ‘I met Móðir, I drank from a cup, and I saw a vision.’ What is that? That is not a story, it is a list of chores!”

Composing herself, and laughing Fríđr sighs. “Not even in the room and that man makes me raise my voice.”

Silence fills the room as Orpo looks at his Queen. His thoughts race with memories of that time. He knows that was a time of great darkness. It was a time that no one was left unchanged. It was a time of evil and darkness.

Yet, it was a time when heroes, answering the call of the Old Gods, joined together to save the world.

“My Queen,” whispers Orpo. “The event that truly set the course Børæn now walks was a vision. It was a vision given to him by the Móðir…”

“Móðir?”

“In your language my Queen she is Mother.”

“Your husband received a vision. It was a terrible vision…”

—

Slowly, my vision begins to collapse in a haze and narrows to a tunnel. I see Mother walk back to her chair and sit. I feel Orpo guide me next to her, and I am placed in a chair as well. She places her hand on my arm.

It feels as solid as rock and as heavy as a mountain.

“Walk with me…” she says in a commanding voice. The sound echoes in my ears as if I am hearing her speak at the mouth of a cave and you are deep within it. Now, even the small tunnel of vision, the fire, the surrounding vista, it all narrows into blurred vision.

“Walk with me…” I hear and I feel as heavy as stone, yet as light as a feather. A blink feels like a thousand heartbeats and when I open my eyes, I can see clearly… into Hell.

The ground beneath me is mud, blasted earth, a pile of stench and garbage. Pitiful creatures, bound in chains, walk towards a huge, dark pit. It is the size of a village. The sides of this pit resemble an inside-out corkscrew. These thin, hunched over creatures walk to the edge and down the corkscrew trail. Others are climbing out, hold stones or pulling carts with them. Short, stocky figures, dressed in leather and metal, crack whips, swing clubs and truncheons, or use boots to push the creatures onwards.

“Behold… our past.” says Mother and indeed, those pitiful creatures are human! I see in the distance, small huts that resemble the huts and tents of my people, but these huts are not suitable for even the lowest of any of the tribes. Small figures, children, are tied to those huts, much like we would tie a cur. I see women, their ribs sticking out of their skin, tending to the children and small fires before the huts. It looks as if they are preparing the lowest of meals.

I move then, suddenly, over the pit and it spirals down into the darkness. Just barely within sight, I see an edifice built into the side of the pit, seeming to vanish into the ground. As I get closer, I realize that it is built into the ground, that I am an exposed portion of an underground structure. There are obscene creatures and figures standing there, some of which send a chill through my body, almost as if I recognize them… I move past them, into the tunnels of the structure… tunnels whose walls seem to undulate. The humans, and elves that I see, and even many littlelings, all show fear!

I exit the tunnels into a huge chamber, whose center is dominated by a hulking structure that screams of its alien nature. It is an affront to my eyes and yet I cannot look away. There are smaller structures surrounding the center, and within, humans and others are screaming in pain. Their bodies are lashed to what look like altars and their life-blood is spilled out into troughs that lead to a crystal that shines a purple-green light. This crystal reflects a beam into the center structure. I see more beams from many more surrounding altars.

“The blood sacrifices. This is where they draw their power and how they used us.” Mother intones and I fly on… closer to the center.

There are areas of darkness moving around the center and the wrongness of them shakes me, threatening to break the vision. I feel the heavy grip of Mother tighten and you slowly rise away from them and to a vantage where I see into the center of the structure, where an enormous crystal collects the various beams and shapes it into one central shaft of light that casts downwards. Below, beneath the beam. I see THEM! The Dark Ones – a similar sight to what I saw in the strange places beneath the ruined monastery where I found myself as a youth.

“Always in three, they come and they work their power. One alone is strong, two together are immense, but three… it is in three that they find their expression of powerfully realized.” Mother says.

“They are not from here, Børæn. They are invaders, come to plunder our lands. The power you see is how they come and go from the place they are birthed from. They take from this place to their own place. They suck us dry so that they might be powerful in their own place. Their anchors, their links of chain through the power they steal from our lives, that is the manner of their domination. That is how they bring the abominations and strange kind to our lands, and they take our treasure to their land, for their war that they fight there.”

I begin to rise now. I see the leather and metal clad ones scurrying about, working to expand the top of the central structure.

“The Dwarfs, they were the servants of the Dark Ones, created by those creatures to serve. The Dwarfs, they paid a terrible price for their own freedom and ours.” Mother’s voice intones.

I rise faster and faster now.

“The sacrifices we made, with the Elves from places far away, with the small ones, with the Dwarfs, they freed us from the shackles, but they did not defeat the Dark Ones. Always plotting, always planning, always looking to regain their grip on this place, and now the time has come again that we must fight them!”

I rise up out of the ground now, rising faster and faster through the sky and clouds.

I look at Mother and simply say: “Show me more so I can understand.”

“The Dark Ones … where there is one, there will be a second. Where there are two, there will be a third.” Mother replies. “Their names, we do not know.”

I cannot see her, but I feel her hand on my arm. As I pray to Meesha, I get the feeling Mother is looking at me again, appraising.

“The one you pray to, She is not of us or our ways, but I feel Her presence in you. Perhaps you are the one to be the bridge. Perhaps you will be able to make them understand.”

“For their cities and walls, their armies and knowledge, all of that will be as leaves in the wind before the Dark Ones unless we regain the ways of old.”

I am higher now, and the land spreads before you. I see the glint of water to the north and south, to the east and west. It is as if the entirety of the lands lie before you.

“When we overthrew the Dark Ones ages ago, with the elves, the littlelings, the Dwarfs, and others that legends speak of, humankind strode forth and took to the lands. They built, they grew, they… forgot. We, we did not. We knew that time would move on, that the door would reopen, that they would return.”

I am beginning to fly back towards the ground now, slowly, slowly, but speeding up.

“Age moved us much as it moves river and hill, rock and tree. I do not know all of the stories. I do not have all of the answers. I am but one Mother. The clans. The tribes. They have others. They must be called. They must share the knowledge. Their pieces will add to the whole.”

Faster and faster I fall, flying through clouds. The wind does not whip my face, but I know that I have great speed, faster than a diving hunting bird.

“You must seek our brothers and sisters. Go south. Go to the east of the Shining City that is soon to be wreathed in Darkness. Go to the mountains there and find our kin.”

Features on the ground start to resolve themselves. There is snow on the ground, on the hills and trees. A white blanket.

“Go south to the lands of swamp and forest, to the hills there and find our kin.”

I realize that a part of the ground looks like a village, a winter home… your tribe’s winter home!

“You will find more pieces there. We know that the Dark Ones are coming. We know that we once held the power, forged by Elf and Littleling, guided by Dwarf, to destroy the Dark Ones. Many warriors, women, men, shamen, mages – they all died, but the doors were closed. We made mistakes in forging that power, so the legends say, but we found the way and were able to throw off the shackles.”

I see that I am heading towards what looks like a bonfire, with figures standing or sitting around it… I see myself from above… I am falling very quickly towards them!

“This is what you will need to become, as our King… the wanderer who finds the ways of Old. Will you succeed? Only your heart and muscle, sinew and will, can decide that.”

—

Silence fills the hall. Those who are there stare unblinkingly at the Queen and Orpo. No one dared to move while Orpo shared the lore.

Reaching for her mug with a shaking hand, she quickly takes a deep drink. Calmer now, she places the mug down and grabs Orpo’s hand.

“How did my husband react to this? How did he handle the visions he received?” She questions quickly.

Orpo sighs, and looks at his Queen and smiles.

“My child you know the answers. Børæn picked himself off the ground and looked at me and the Mother not with fright, not with arrogance, but with strength. His first thought was the care of his tribe. His second thought was to gather hunters — which he did — so that he could ride into battle to slay what he saw.”

“Børæn, even though he did not know it then, became our king. Yes, he had a long path to follow, but at that moment, when a lesser man would have fleed from that tent, after seeing what he saw, Børæn stood, grabbed his weapons and smiled! ‘Well, then, if I am too be King, I must war. If I must war, then I need a pack. My faith in Meesha will guide me, the wolf will aid me, and my weapons… My weapons will kill my enemies.’”

“It was that moment my Queen, that I knew the boy had become a man. He left us so that he could be forged into something new, and when he returned he pulled us from the darkness,” Orpo says with pride.

“Børæn is not as complicated as many think he is. He is guided by three things. One, his devotion to Meesha. Two, the well being of his tribe. Three, his love for you.”

Standing up slowly, Orpo bows to Fríđr.

“Now my child, you know the lore. The lore is yours, and the lore lives within you.”

“Thank you,” Fríđr whispers.

“Bah! It is just lore. Important, yes, but just lore. Do not let it weigh on you. If you do, you will be walking hunched over like I do,” laughs Orpo as he turns to leave.

It is the time that the fruit of the labor of spring, summer, and fall is enjoyed.

It is the time of reflection, boasts, and rest.

Warriors who during the warmer months roam the mountain valleys protecting the Valley of the Wolf, spend their time carving, crafting, and even weaving.

“I’ve asked this question many times, but no one answers me,” states a small boy sitting next to his father by the fire. The boy is learning how to carve, but is more interested in listening to the stories his father tells.

“Child, if you spend more time listening your carving of a tree would look like a tree and not a snake,” the father says with a chuckle.

Before he can ask again, a large man approaches the fire. Padding next to him is the large black wolf that never leaves his side.

The boy looks up in awe. Here is the king.

Børæn at the age of 50, still is imposing. His thick muscles show no sign of age, and other than the streaks of grey in his hair and beard, Børæn still looks the same as he did so many year ago.

Sitting near the fire, Børæn looks to the child.

“Ask your question little one, and I will answer them,” Børæn.

The lodge grows quiet and wait to hear their king.

“I am not a Merkitä Muistiin, but I can tell you the lore…”

After Meesha’s words, I saw the goddess was true to her word, the rest of the journey passes quickly.

Within days I reached the winter home of the Wolf Tribe. Instead of the normal look of the tents, the animals gathered around the perimeter, the puffs of smoke rising from the warming fires — that wass all here, but so to were banners hanging from the tents, from poles and cord strung between them. All of them covered in symbols used by the medicine folk, shamans and witches. A great fire burned in the center of the camp, and I saw a ring of people surrounding the fire, meditating. Also in this circle was my mother and father.

I stopped my horse short, and dismounted. I led her back down the hill and told her to wait.

I looked at Talvi, and the bond we shared had her know what would come next: destiny.

We snuck to the top of the hill, and laid flat. Together we laid there, using the tall grass to hide us.

My axe wAs in my hand, and I remember feeling my manger simmer.

Feeling it, Talvi licked my hand as if to tell me, keep things in check. Whatever comes next, she and I will face it.

The chant was unlike anything I ever heard from the various shamen, witches and wise folk that I once interacted with.

The flame dimmed, and suddenly burst with a strange white and green color. The eldest shaman stood, turns and begins intoning to the circle.

One by one, the elders stood, steeping forward and thrust both arms into the fire! As they withdraw their arms, the strange fire remained on their skin, dancing and flickering until they sit back down.

Each shaman and witch did this , and then came my father and step-mother. With defiance they thrust their arms in, and backing away, the flames remained on their arms growing intensit!

The shamen, witches and elders watched impassively at the two writhing on the ground. The flames spread across their bodies, burning their clothes. The two rolled around on the ground, trying to beat the unnatural fire off. This lasted for a few moments and then the flames suddenly disappeared.

The oldest elder, the wise woman stands and pointed at your parents. She said a word and it echoed among the tents… “SATEESE” At that, others echo her word.

“SATEESE”

“Your old ways don’t interest me!” My father spits at them. “Your trickery won’t change anything, nor take away what is MINE! This tribe is MINE and I say NO. We will NOT join the Increpaytone!”

Seeing the scene below, I am a mix of emotions.

I am angry because I want to be the one to kill my father and step-mother.

I wanted to punish them for their evil.

I am confused because this was something I had not prepared myself for.

I look at Talvi, and we lock eyes. I feel her reassurance and her determination pass into me with that look.

“Come, Talvi, we have a task to face. Blade and claw. Tooth and fist. Together we face what is to come with Meesha’s name upon our lips, and her words within our hearts.”

I stand.

Instead of my ax or my sword, I draw Lohikäärme Hammas. With this action, my life will be changed forever more.

I walk slowly into the village. I walk with confidence. I walk with purpose. I walk with my faith in Meesha.

As I enter the village I see those who I grew up with. Those who I hunted with. Those who I once had grudges with, but then became fast friends. I look at the ones who I considered my brothers and sisters, only to have them betray me in my moments of need.

As I walk closer to the fire I stand taller. The realization comes to me in a flash: whatever is to come will not be my end. It will be the end of the current path my people are on.

I smile.

Now is the time I will show my goddess my faith in her, and my love for her.

With dagger in hand, I grip it tightly.

The crowd whispers my name, and my father’s eyes grow wide. Instead of anger in there is only fear.

I look to the viper whose actions poisoned my people. She glares in malevolence as if she wants nothing more than kill me.

I turn looking at the tribe. I speak:

“I am Børæn of the Wolf Tribe.”

“I am Børæn of the Axe.”

“I am Børæn of the Sword.”

“I am Meesha’s Rage.”

“I am Meesha’s Warrior.”

I am Meesha’s priest.

With each statement my voice grows louder; stronger. It reverberates around the tribe, and no one speaks."

I raise Lohikäärme Hammas above my head.

“This is Lohikäärme Hammas. This is the dagger of Aapo, the dagger of Elias, the dagger of Aku, the dagger of Jere, the dagger of Sakarias, the dagger of Valthjof, and now the dagger of Børæn.”

“This is the dagger that has been passed down from one chieftain’s eldest to the next. This is the dagger Aapo used to unite the Wolf Tribe, and it is this dagger which sealed the bonds of leadership and family, and cemented that his line would lead the Wolf till the sun is snuffed out, and the stars are no more.”

Not a sound is heard as I speak. Even the fire seems to have gone silent.

“You are weak and a coward. You are no son of mine. You stole Lohikäärme Hammas because you are nothing more than a thief!” Yells my father.

I spin, with dagger in hand, and plunge Lohikäärme Hammas into my father’s chest. In one swift motion, I remove his heart and hold it in my hand showing it to my father.

“You are not worthy of this tribe. You failed this tribe when you allowed the viper to corrupt you and our tribe. When you killed my mother…”

Hearing that, the death of his mother and his father’s responsibility for it, the tribe gasps.

“As a coward, you killed her and blamed me for your sins.”

My step-mother goes to speak, but Talvi silences her with a low growl.

“You are no longer of the Wolf. The name Arnbnjog, will be struck from our lore. No longer will Arnbnjorg be part of the roll of kings. Your name will never be spoken again. There is no place for you at Tapio’s fire. In death, you will walk the Lands of Shadow until the stars no longer shine, and worlds no longer exist. You are no longer of the Sword, you are dead to your clan. You are no longer of the Raven.”

Life leaves my father’s eyes as the last words are spoken. Throwing the heart into the fire, I turn to Ingvildr.

For the first time in my life, I see real fear in her eyes.

“Viper. Though my father killed my mother, it was you who gave him the knife. It was your poison that worked its’ way into the Wolf. It is your evil which marked me as a traitor. Your death will be but one step in cleansing my tribe. Your death will have no honor.”

With that, I cut Ingvildr throat and say no more.

“By rights of Lohikäärme Hammas. I am now king.”

Some try to speak out, but it is apparent that my statement is open not for debate. It is a statement of fact.

“By tradition, I say the following: those of the Raven Clan have safe passage until sunset to leave this tribe. If by the last ray of sun you are still here, you will be killed. No mercy will be given.”

With that, a few in the crowd begin to leave, and looks are thrown at them by the tribe. Looks of anger. Looks of vengeance.

“Merkitä Muistiin.” I said simply.

As if by magic Orpo appears. Seeing him I smiled.

“I see even you are too stubborn to succumb to age,” I laughed.

Orpo hits me with his staff, and the tribe laughs. With that laugh, all tension seems to lift.

“Be serious, now is not the time for the child,” Orpo stated.

Regaining myself I spoke: “As Merkitä Muistiin, Orpo, you are the keeper of our lore. On this day, you will strike the Raven Clan from our lore. From this day they will be known as the Clan That Will Not Be Named.”

“It will be done my King,” Orpo simply stated.

“From this day forward Arnbnjorg will be removed from the roll of kings. No longer will his name be uttered. Arnbnjorg is now of the Shadow. He walks alone and he has no lodge.”

“It will be done my King,” Orpo stated with a hint of happiness.

I looked around, as if I look at each member of my tribe separately.

“I am your king, and together we will cleanse this tribe of the poison which has festered. Together The Wolf will regain its’ honor. Together we will add to our Lore. Gone is our divisions. Axe, Sword, Boar, Horse, Eagle, and the Rabbit clans will be at peace. We will be united, and we will show all that together The Wolf will not be cowered.”

The crowd’s mood brightens with the naming of the clans.

“Unlike my father, I do not see you as tools to be used. I see you as my brothers and sisters. We are united, and together we will show the world who we are.”

“In Meesha’s name I pledge to you a new day has dawned.”

The room is quiet as Børæn tells his lore. When finished no one knows what to say.

“What happened next?” Asks the child.

Børæn chuckles, patting the child on his shoulder. “You will learn that when you are older. Little one. For now think on what you have heard.”

The Chronicle of Børæn

The darkness has engulfed the land, and the tribes have taken to their valleys to survive the long night.

It is here, in the Valley of the Wolf, the Wolf Tribe that an old man walks through the biting wind, and falling snow. Hunched over he walks as if the weight of the world is carried.Those who know otherwise know that this man is stronger than he appears.

He reaches the Lodge of the Wolf.

It is here that his King has ruled, and it is from here his king has brought change — needed change — to the Wolf Tribe.

He enters, and in his wake follows the cold and snow.

All goes quiet, as the old man walks toward the throne.

TAP.

With each step, his step sets the rhythm of his walk.

TAP.

The festivities grow silent.

TAP.

The children race to the front, as close to the throne as they can. They know what is to come.

TAP.

As he advances, each warrior bows their head to the Merkitä Muistiin.

TAP.

The large black wolf lifts his head and seems to smile seeing Orpo.

TAP.

As he nears, the golden-haired queen smiles and winks at the oldest man of the Wolf.

TAP.

Orpo reaches the throne and bows deeply. The king, still imposing after all these years, smiles.

“You never need to bow old friend,” Børæn’s deep voice rolls through the room.

“Do not tell me place pup! I will bow if I choose too,” grumbles Oropo. The hall laughs, but with a loud tap of his staff, all grow silence.

“I speak of times long past. Through this, you learn. Through this, the history is kept. Through this, the tribe will never forget.”

The black wolf, whines, as if telling the old man to go on. Unphased Orpo continues:

This is how the would-be king found his purpose. This is is how the would-be king found his way home. Without this, the Wold Tribe would be no more.

Of all the Lore, this is the most important.

See Børæn walk through the countryside with reins in hand and Talvi, as always, trotting next to her human.

Børæn is in thought. He looks around him marveling at the beauty of the world around him. He offers his thanks to Meesha for the blessings she provides and the beauty she creates. It is Meesha who has brought much, but more importantly, it is her words and actions which has brought Børæn much.

When Børæn left the Wolf one step ahead of the Clan that will not be named, Børæn became lost. Lost in thoughts. Lost in his anger. Lost in a quest for vengeance.

Børæn is broken.

Børæn’s anger simmered due to the actions of his father, but that tale is for another time.

Børæn is vexed by another problem.

There is something wrong with the world. Call it evil, chaos, cancer, rot, or decay, it did not matter. What matters is something is eating away at the world and something is harming his goddess. What, Børæn does not know, but something IS wrong.

Before he found his way to Meesha, Børæn had no cares. He lived for the hunt; the next fight; the next threat. He reacted to his desires, and things were good.

Things are different now, Børæn thinks about his goddess, her needs, and her works. Børæn still loves war, but now he is more, he is Meesha’s rage.

Why does the call north pulls Børæn? At this time he did not know. He knew he must go north, and it is north he hoped to find answers, guidance, or even a clue as to what he had become.

There is no shame in saying Børæn is lost. Every hunter becomes lost. Yet it is the great hunter who knows how to find his way back.

Børæn is lost, alone, and more confused than ever.

He does not know his purpose.

“Am I winter?” he asks?

“Am I summer, or spring, or even fall?” the would-be king says aloud.

What Børæn does not know yet is that the call he hears is the one of his destiny. Before all of this, he was a simple tribesman, and his life was straightforward. Fight, drink, fight, drinks; wash-rinse-repeat.

Now he wants to find what his new purpose was so that he could serve the goddess who Børæn brought us.

The snows begin early and the winter matches Børæn’s mood: brutal. Still, Børæn travels, with Talvi at his side. He knows that his people are north and what is to come, soon will be there.

As he walks, his mind is silence. All he thinks about is survival. This winter is a forge, and this forge will make him into what he is to become.

Tired, he still cares for his two companions. Once done, he sits looking at the feeble fire. The blizzard mirrors his inner turmoil.

Looking into the fire, he thinks to himself: “Meesha, I do not know what you want from me, but I am willing to learn. I need to serve you not just in anger, but in peace. How? I do not know. I am ready to find out.”

As he speaks, the winds howls and the snow swirls around him heavily. As fast as it started it ends and in the wake stands a woman, wearing a dress of frost. Laughing, he touches Børæn’s cheek.

“Boraen… my favorite knight who is so serious and so sure that there is a reason for everything. I do love watching you. You remind me of another who was so serious about life. Now his weapon stands amid my shrine. I do hope you’re not planning on ending up like him.”

As she speaks small winter flowers suddenly emerge from the snow, opening their delicate petals towards her.

“I feel your heart, lovely man. You have touched things that are bigger than yourself, bigger than your conflicts, bigger than the betrayal you felt from your parents. This leaves you unsettled, looking for purpose, looking for structure. And yet here we are, in the middle of something that has no structure, that is part of life, that is simple IS because it is here.” she waves her hands at the snows.

“Lovely, is it not? It just seemed like a good time for some snow. What do you think it is time for, Børæn?”

Looking at the goddess and hearing her words, Børæn is filled with a sense of peace.

The rage that burns, dims and simmers as a pot of water at the edge of a fire.

Though Meesha’s touch is cold, it warms him, and parts the clouds that have covered his mind for so long.

“I am a simple warrior that is all I ever knew,” he says. “I thought of myself as your warrior, but now be your shaman. I might not be the most perfect of choices or even the wisest, but my devotion is true.”

“I have a debt to pay and tasks ahead, but in all of this, you will be within my heart. My faith will be my shield.”

“The world is growing dark, and it needs warriors as well as priests. I will be both.”

Taking his knife and cutting his palm, Børæn squeezes his fist to let the blood flow.

“By my oath, I will honor you and spread your word as best I can. By my oath, I will fight your enemies to my last breath. By my will I will bring you to my people when I save my clan from the evil that festers there.”

“I have no doubts. Granted, I might not understand you, but I have no doubts,” Boraen simply states.

“Oh, my sweet warrior-now-priest, you are never EVER boring. Don’t change, my love, don’t change… I cannot be angry at you when you are just SO SERIOUS!” she laughs and reaches out and touches the drops of blood dripping from your hand. As they hit the ground, they transform into small vines that blossom blood-red flowers. She reaches down and plucks several of them and places them in her hair.

“I will wear these today, they please me so. You are not like the others – you will struggle, my sweet man. You will not find service to me as easily as Turgon does. You will, however, please me with that struggle and you will, in the end, find the reason for your life.”

“Know this, sweet man… gods live through those who worship them, who pledge to them, who sustain their belief through good times and bad. If I am to live again, to breathe again, to be there for you when the pendulum swings deeper into the darkness that comes… you will need to make sure that my name and who I am are near the tongues of all who meet you. Make them remember, Børæn! Make them remember that it is not just good deeds and good words that bring them miracles. That I, and my brothers and sisters, will protect our followers and will be there for them when they are in need. Much as you are, my sweet man.”

She waves an arm and suddenly, the snow ceases to a few flakes that fall from Meesha’s hair and dress.

“You will find the rest of your trip easier, sweet man.”

She bends over and kisses the top of your forehead.

“Now sleep. Go when the sun rises. You will reach your lands without a struggle. I do this to show you that we do take care of our own.”

The clouds that shrouded Børæn’s understanding finally part. Meesha’s words, he realizes, told him he had the answers all along.

“I should have never doubted, or questioned the ways or the whats of this,” Børæn says aloud to no one

Børæn pauses and then smiles. “I do not know if it was by your hand, fate, or some twist of luck that brought me to that monastery, yet something did. Whatever it was that set me upon this path has to lead to you.”

Looking at the axe and dagger of his people, Børæn seems sad and for the first time, his solitude strikes him.

“I have been gone from my people for close to seven years. I fled with barely my life. The taint of evil that has taken root in my father’s heart and tribe sadden me but anger me. I will return there to slay the viper who has poisoned my people. I will travel to the Wold and there, I will cut the black heart from my father and free my people from that evil.”

Børæn’s voice grows angrier as if it is a storm raging during the spring. Suddenly the storm breaks, and the anger that grips Børæn is less.

“If I am too follow you, and tell those of you, I must put these away for a time. I must walk a different path for awhile. Though I am a warrior, I can be one for you, even if it means the axe, the sword, and dagger must be put aside for awhile.”

Laughing Boraen says simply: “I guess I am a priest. I better find myself a weapon then. After all, I cannot be seen spreading your word with just my fists.”

The hush of the hall deepens, as Orpo finishes. Bowing to the king who thinks as his son, the old man smiles. Børæn returns the smile and bows as well. The bond this two share runs deep, and it is because of this bond the Wolf is strong.

Orpo bows to his queen, and she looks at her husband’s oldest friend. Her look is one of love and appreciation.

The wolf looks at the old man, and yawns. Orpo chuckles to himself, “So much like his mother.”

Turning, Orpo’s staff once again taps in rhythm as the old man leaves. Everyone bows with respect to the man, and soon he enters into the night.

Balto's Journal

While I’d been following up with Roebuck, the merchant’s wife, on her interest in learning the healing ways of nature, several of my travelling companions had gone North. On visiting the Sisters, they met none other than Boraen, now a cleric of Misha! I’m not as fond of him as I was of Ja’Kar, but they both hew close to my thoughts on nature and the world. After a harrowing visit to see Alfred and Gerald being tortured by demons in their Chaos Tower, they returned to Ennonia just as I was getting restless.

Marshal Roehm was off to the South to bring to heel Dame Orielt and Marshal Kelvin, who had risen in rebellion against the Duke. A theocracy of Lightbringers to the South seems a thing to be avoided; while I as a Littling might be left in peace, humans who also revere only nature would not. I can’t maintain the forest alone – I need to safeguard those humans who would try to help me. And that meant making common cause with the followers of the old gods and the more orthodox clergy of the Light.

We decided to ride for Irecia, to see if we could get into the mages’ library for Pyria and learn more about the Chaos Towers – one of which was surely in Irecia. We stopped for the night in the fort in the woods, hosted by the gracious Captain McCarry. He told us the orcs had stopped trying to get into the woods, but goblins were plaguing travelers.
Emerging from the woods on the Irecian Way, we saw the abandoned orc camp a little way to the south. I noted one tent still standing, so we made our way towards it, only to be ambushed by a group of goblins. As a child, I’d been paid a bounty for slinging at any goblins that tried to steal our apples, so I was quick to dispatch one with a stone. But goblins are good at hiding themselves, and the battle was confused (I think some of the goblins were victims of friendly fire!) so most of them got away. And there was little enough to see in the camp, for all the trouble we took to get to it.

Boraen set the camp on fire, careful that the wind blew the sparks away from the forest. And we headed back to the road, only to be ambushed again. I should note – I was not surprised! But the noise these humans make kept Belaldur from hearing the goblins creep up. I slinged a stone at one, then gave chase with my cudgel out. Pyria cast sleep on a group of them, soon dispatched by Grel, Josef, Talvi, and Boraen. Several of the party were injured. I treated Fergus, hit by a couple of arrows, and we retreated to the fort, Boraen burning the prairie behind us. I was aggrieved at the destruction, but consoled myself with the thought that prairies need an occasional burn to flourish. I was glad the forest seemed safe from fire; I am more attuned to the forest than any other part of the natural world.

McGarry was surprised to see us return, but grimly noted that the goblins had been getting bolder. He invited us to stay and heal and rest a day, which we reluctantly did, but we fed ourselves and our horses so as not to draw down the garrison’s supplies.

The dawning of the 35th day of Summer, Grel said he could hardly sense Tangadorin. I felt an unease, a tension as if the world were teetering on the brink. Boraen sensed a hush over the world, and Talvi was unsettled. Chaos was increasing. If we were to make it to Irecia in time to make a difference, we decided, we needed to gallop through any goblin pinpricks, save our strength for the entry into the city. And we were ambushed and I take a palpable hit, but we kept riding on through the arrow-storm. Fergus, too, was injured. Grel healed me, I healed Fergus and we went on.

Midday, we spied a village a little off the road, and we rode up to check it out. Fat heads of wheat were ripening in the fields around the village, but we also saw a crude wooden platform guarding the lane, and orc soldiers saw us and began mustering. We turned back to the Irecian Way.

Eventually, we came upon the burned-out ruins of a Wayfarer’s Inn at a crossroads. According to a sign in the ditch, the village of Culwyth was to the Northeast – and from that direction, Fergus spotted a wagon with four horses, driven by an orc, and with humans running alongside, chained to the wagon. They fled before us, and I made a difficult sling to stun the driver. Belaldur made a somewhat easier shot with his bow and finished him. The horses slowed, and we caught up to the wagon. Fergus grabbed the reins and stopped the wagon before turning to slay the next enemy. Grel killed one orc himself and helped Pyrea dispatch another – but Grel is an erratic shot at best. Boraen took out three orcs before he was knocked out, weakened by Grel’s arrow in his ass. Talvi and Belaldur killed the last. Talvi then went to Boraen, glaring at Grel. Both Joffrey and I worked to heal Boraen.

We freed the slaves from their shackles, but they told us we must allow them to go back to Culwyth. Their families are hostage, held to ensure their return. We entertained a notion of riding in and liberating the village, but realized there will be guards on the road, and the Culwythians tell us 200 orcs live in their village. We are forced to let the humans go back to slavery, with the orcs’ armor and weapons, and even the cargo of weapons forged in the village south of the Irecian Way. We did make arrangements to come back and free the village at some point in the future, but this is the Time of the Orcs – they have overrun the Irecian Plains.

Boraen awakened with a headache that did nothing to improve his mood. We could not continue to Irecia through an orc-infested country, so we began to make our way back towards Enonia. The dawn of the next day, though, we were awakened by a loud bang and a brilliant flash of purple light to the East – and we saw a roiling mass of clouds and chaos lightning over Irecia. A smaller cloud appeared a little to the south of the road at the edge of the forest. Grel and Joffrey – and as it happened, all clerics of the Light – lost their powers and spells, and those two wailed that Tangdorin could not be felt. I could feel a great disturbance, felt that chaos was rising, that a shift had occurred. I tried to hold the center, but as they day went by, I was exhausted from the effort.

Grel’s report

It was the 26th day of Summer, Dame Oriole had escaped and we were unsure what to do next. We decided to go see the Sisters to find out if they had discovered anything about those Chaos towers. So, I set off with Beladur, Pyria, Ragar, Mazlor (and Itsy) and I asked Joffrey to accompany us.
On the way Mazlor was looking for a new helper (Meat shield?) and decided we should check out the nearby convent. All was going well until Beladur decided to go visiting the nuns to see if any were looking for some companionship. Apparently, in the middle of the night, he barged in upon a very agitated woman who promptly struck him, and then attempted to catch and possibly bash him into non existence. Fortunately for him, she was exceptionally clumsy and didn’t catch him before he managed to get back to us.
In the morning, when Mazlor requested an apprentice to journey with him, who do you think volunteered? It was her, Shammel was her name. She seems a stout if overly rigorous individual. Her unfortunate clumsiness is sure to be a problem.
So we continued on our way and visited the Sisters. Who do you think was there? It was our old comrade Boraen. He was much changed. He has become a cleric of Misha!
We had a very pleasant conversation with the sisters. They informed us that the Chaos tower was mysteriously built about 300 years ago, but there were no records of the construction. It also seems that Alfred & Gerald were survivors of a group called the ….
After a pleasant dinner, we spent the night, and decided to go see what was going on there. I decided that this time I would be more straight forward, and declare myself and demand answers. It did not go exactly as planned….I proclaimed myself as a Paladin and demanded answers as to the nature of this Chaos. Gerald said he would expect no less from a Paladin of Tangadorin (I had not proclaimed the name of my God), but refused to answer. He shut the door upon me!
Boraen took a more direct approach. He bashed through the door into Alfred’s home and wrestled him to the ground. Alfred managed to break free. They both charged the tower and ran straight thru the doors, almost pulling Joffrey in with them. Then a hideous demon attacked. I charged it with the full fury of Tangadorin, but it disappeared the moment I struck it.
We searched the buildings and found the keys.
After a bit of experimentation, Boraen opened the door. He and Ragar walked through a portal of complete blackness. They returned very shaken. They told us that inside were demons torturing Alfred and Gerald. They allowed them to question Alfred 7 Gerald. They learnt that there are many towers and that Alfred & Gerald were the attendents of this Tower. The towers are a network for “The Master”. “The Master” and the “Dark Ones” are in conflict to enslave the world. Very soon something very bad is coming and the voice of the Master demanded that we serve them, or be destroyed with everyone else.
Boraen stalled and offered to consider.
We took the keys and left, but shortly after , the keys disappeared. Alfred & Gerald had confirmed that Irecia is home to the Dark ones….perhaps we shook investigate.

Grel’s report to Jorann at the Temple

Jorann, it is with a heavy heart that I must report that I have failed your trust in me. When you told me of this awful shape shifter, and confided your belief that the power to sense Chaos, which Tangadorin had bestowed upon me, would be essential in rooting this thing out, I was overjoyed. I was sure that this was an opportunity for me to prove myself to you and to Tangadorin. Yet, I was unworthy. Let me tell you what happened, so that you can properly chastise me.
I reported to the Marshal, as you had instructed me. I went with Beladur, Fergus and Mazlor, along with their faithful servants Wilheim, Josef and Itsy. I brought Joffrey, who seems to be a most sensible fellow. We explained to the Marshal about my ability and how we believed that this creature must be using chaos magic. We came up with the plan to have the Duke’s brother wear his Armor and pretend to be him as he inspected the folk of the keep. The Marshal would make sure that everyone was present and accounted for. I would disguise myself as one of his personal guard, and stay next to him as he walked by everyone in the keep. We made extensive preparations, scattered our friends in strategic locations and set our plan in motion. We walked by everyone, but no one seemed to be of, or using Chaos. However, apparently three guards and one staff member were missing. We had procured a dog to help with our search, so we took it to the staff members quarters and had him follow the scent. It took us down in t the dungeon where The Dame had been kept. Unfortunately, when we told the Marshal to bring everyone out, he had only left two guards on the secret entrance to the tunnels. They were dead, the entrance was unblocked, and the Dame was gone! This is how I have failed you Jorann, I should have been more clear to the marshal that the guards should not be reduced, but I was not.
Godfrey told us that they had decided he was of no further use, and left him. He told us that they were heading south to begin a revolt with Marshal Kelvin. We rushed to the south gate, and I summoned Arion to bear me aloft as I searched for them. Tangadorin drew me to them at once, they were riding hard due south. I tried to signal my friends, but they could not see me. It was clear that they were heading due south and were not going to stop. I barely made it to my friends before Arion was exhausted and disappeared. They had already passed the elvish fort, but I couldn’t pursue them further. We all regrouped at the fort to continue our pursuit. We will get them yet!

Good citizens of Enonia and the midlands of Irecia, my fellow worshipers of the Light, I bid you good morning.

I come before you today as a humble servant of the Light. I come before you as someone who shares your pain, your struggles, your sorrows and your joys. You have suffered especially hard for these past few years – war, disease, uncertainty, loss. You have preservered despite the many challenges before you. Truly, you shine with a Light all of your own, a Light which has lead us in the darkness, a Light which makes us strong and whole.

The Light. We call to it, we pray to it, we do acts in its name, but what is the Light? What does it mean? What does it stand for? Where does it come from and where does it lead us?

I know that as a little girl, I was raised in uncertain times, then in tragic times. I was born in the rubble of the Doom and I was raised during the wars with the Bestials that saw us driven to our knees. In those first few years, we as a race cast about, praying to old gods who did not seem to listen or care. It was a priest of Light who healed me of sickness, who helped us to find shelter… who prayed over my Father’s body when he died. He was always telling us to stand, to be strong, to find the Light within. I did so, in his honor and now in honor of all those who strive to shine Light into this darkness.

I believe that we sometimes forget the most important aspect of the Light… that it is from within. We pray to it, but in reality, we are praying to ourselves and each other. We call to it, but in reality, we are calling to ourselves and each other. We do acts in its name, but in reality, we are doing acts for each other and with the support of each other. The Light shines within you, within me, within all of us. It is our destiny to let that Light shine forth… or not.

Think about sunlight, about the light of a fire, of a lamp or candle. It seeks to shine in all directions, to all corners. Darkness persists when the light is not strong enough, or when it is blocked. You can see the shadows, sometimes clearly, sometimes fuzzy. The light seeks to get around the darkness. When there are multiple candles, lanterns or windows, then the light can reach in all directions and no shadows remain. That is what the Light in us tries to do. Alone, we are one flame. Together, we are brighter than the sun above and no darkness may remain.

There are other things that seek to exist alongside the light. The light still shines. These other things may seek to catch ones eye, but the light still shines. And although a flame or two may not be lit anymore, the light that still shines from other lanterns and candles still shines, still seeks to cast away the shadow and darkness.

There are those who seek to use the Light to their own purposes, to “catch” the Light and bend it, reshape it. They tell you that the Darkness is because of those who do not let their Light out, who rather harness their light within to other purposes, such as praying to the old gods. They seek to make you afraid, to hold that fear as a weapon and to hurt others, to deny others, to drive out others.

Some lights are different colors, different flames, different shapes. The light of candle and of the lantern is different from the light of the torch, the fireplace, the sun, and the stars above. Yet they are all flames, and they drive away the darkness in their own way.

I do not believe in the old gods. Whatever they are, they chose to be silent, to turn their backs on us in our time of greatest need. They showed that they live for us to worship them and that they cannot or will not help us. It was our light within, our belief in ourselves, and the miracles that WE can perform that has saved us from everlasting darkness. This I believe in all of you, that you can open your light and continue to do wonderful, good things because of yourself.

Yet I do not deny the light of those who seek out the old gods. Just as a candle may be removed from a chandelier, and it may be used elsewhere, it still shines. It’s own purpose. So too, I see the pagans. They are us. They are men, women, children of our flesh and blood. Their light may be elsewhere, but we are all still walking the same life, and we all contribute to shining away the Darkness. In time, they may rejoin the Light, the great chandelier, or they may not. None can deny that they have found some power of the divine within. Although I believe it is their misguided light that shines forth in the name of another, it is still divine and it still pushes away that which would overwhelm us.

As of this moment, as High Priestess of the Duchy of Irecia, I declare the group known as the “Lightbringers” to be heretical and unwelcome in our churches, in our homes, in our lives. They seek to pervert the light to a means that darkens the Light and makes us weaker, not stronger. If you are a Lightbringer, I forgive you. Your light has been used, but you may rejoin us, by renouncing the darkness of this group. If you continue to opress the misguided pagans, you are not acting in the Light, you are acting no better than the Bestials who would enslave us. I will not forgive such acts anymore.

To the pagans, I say this – I see your faith and your beliefs and your searching for the truth. To those who believe in the Light and yet still put a cup of water on the window sill for an old god, or put a small flower on the bed to appease an old god, I see that you are hoping for help and guidance from anywhere. Despair and fear are powerful, but be strong and the Light will shine forth for you. I forgive you, I love you and I will not push you aside. I will sit with you, pray with you and we will push away the darkness together. I do not cast you away, but rather walk with you, and welcome you with open arms. I believe in YOU and your Light. Not your god. Rather in YOU.

I know many of you have come here to learn of my intentions for the priests and leaders who have misguided many of us. They will be held accountable and atone for these acts. Those of the Light will be dealt with by me and a council of priests. We will take care of our own and perhaps heal our own. Darkness and despair can damage and harm, but we will seek to heal them and guide them back. Those who are of the Duke or the King must answer to the laws of the Kingdom of Men. I will pray for them and seek to counsel them.

My dear travelers of the road of Life… I pray that the Light comforts you, guides you, shines in darkness and lifts you up. I pray that when you feel weak, or sick, or injured, that you see the Light within and know that we are all connected through it. May the Light shine ever always in your heart and mind.

The hour was late as Joran arrived at his small home to pray. The outside walls bore evidence of the violence of the past four days – burn marks, broken windows and splashes of paint and rotten vegetables from protesters and thugs. The inside was clean as usual, with Grel and the faithful all having cleaned up. Several were still sleeping in the attic. Grel’s heavy tread could be heard on the floor boards as he moved from window to window, watching for more trouble.

Joran sighed and slipped to her knees, the prayers and chants coming to her mind. “Oh great Tangadorin, All-Seeing…” she began and the crystal that was affixed to the ceiling began to glow. Joran’s prayers faltered; this was not the light of fire, but something else. The light grew brighter, and more bright, and then seemed to detach itself and float down to the ground in front of the kneeling priestess! It grew to human-size and then a glowing body stepped out of it. The light was so bright that Joran had to throw up her arm over her face and look away, but it dimmed a bit and she could glance into it. The light seemed to shine everywhere, and there were no shadows cast. It was soft, and hard at the same time, soothing her wounds from the previous days, and calming to her heart.

A voice spoke – low, melodic. It seemed to drift along the light.

“I … am pleased, Joran. You have done well. You have revealed a darkness that was forming and threatened all that you have worked for in My Name. You have stretched out your hand and removed this darkness and you have even brought My Name to the lips of those who believe in the things that have been created in the name of mortals. Even now, I hear their voices as they talk about Me, wonder about Me, wish to learn more about Me.”

“It is by this, Joran, that you bring Me to Life. Their prayers, their acts, just as your prayers and acts, Grel’s prayers and acts, all these serve to strengthen Me and make Me whole again. They again begin the cycle that brings Me forth and allows Me to share My Knowledge and My Sight. Together, we will continue to shine the True Light forth and reveal all that must be revealed.”

“It is because of this, Joran, that I give you the sight to understand more of My Word as recorded in the book that you have. As you read and learn, you will continue to act for Me, and when you are ready, you will have grown more strong through My strength.”

“Know that I walk with you always. I see you. As you and the others grow stronger, so too will you strengthen those around you. And soon, you will be strong enough to take up the task that is needed… the task that will bring me to the Renewal that you have started. The Renewal of Me.”

“Go forth and see all that is to be seen. Learn all that can be learnt. Do not let the darkness hide the Truth from the hearts of men. Do this in My Name.”

Joran blinks and the light and figure are gone. The tread of Grel can still be heard. Did it happen? Was it just a heartbeat of a dream? Joran rose on shaky legs and walked over to the locked chest that held the holy words. She opened the chest and drew the book out. Flipping open the pages, she turned to a section that had been perplexing her… and it was as if a veil had been lifted, for the words made sense now! With wonder, she began to read, and could tell that she was taking a next step into learning more about Tangadorin and His Plan.

Balto's Journal

After all the fuss, we sorted ourselves out. I didn’t see Pyrea or Ragar, but maybe they were helping the town and keep guards with the prisoners. Or maybe they were hauling Belaldur’s chestnuts out of the fire? I have to confess I was busy with a wedge of cheese set out on the bar upstairs.

The rest of us – let’s see, that was myself, Joran and Joffrey, Itsy and Mazlor, and Fergus, Willie, and Josef, plus Veckstos – dashed across town to the Temple of the Light. Joran joined in healing and aiding the wounded as Mazlor talked to Averin. I looked about and saw a few finely clothed merchant folk, one with his right arm awkwardly cradled in his left. Walmar’d been waiting some time to be tended, but triage had put the many burned and concussed and stabbed and all ahead of him.

And, my, wasn’t his son Kaymar red-faced with impotent rage. His wife Roebuck was there, too – staying calm but wondering why nothing could be done to help her husband. I sidled up and, as Kaymar clutched at his purse, offered my services for a fee. Watched carefully by Roebuck, Fergus resocketed Walmar’s dislocated shoulder. I pulled power from the earth to reknit his broken arm, and made a fuss about mixing together mint and willow (and I told them, ground gemstone) into a tea to ease his pain and soothe him.

I asked and received a royal for the treatment! And Roebuck asked me to visit her in the days ahead to talk of the herb and nature lore I had used. Perhaps I can get back my cloak then – it was all I had to use as a sling, besides the furs in my armor.

As I was finishing up, Mazlor emerged from the back with Gazelle. Averin would stay at the temple, organizing the relief, and Isty would stay with her. Gazelle, grabbing her spell book, joined us in our desperate effort to protect the Duke from the machinations of the Lightbringer faction. We collected our steeds and raced for the Keep.

We got there just as a parade of dignitaries and armed folk were entering it. Joran, Gazelle, and Mazlor muscled through the watching crowd – “In the name of the Light” – and we made the gates. Gazelle demanded, as a Flame, that we all be let through, and we were admitted but told to await the Marshall’s pleasure in the barracks. Fergus objected, but the guards let only Veckstos out, to report to his superior, the Captain of the Duke’s Guard.

After a bit, we were summoned to the Keep library. Gazelle left for the Duke’s welcoming reception; she patted my hand sympathetically and promised to have some food sent in for a late lunch. Once that arrived, we set to with gusto. I put aside a couple pastries for later, and advised Willie and Josef and Fergus to do the same.

The Marshall, looking grim, came into the room. Mazlor, after verifying Roehm’s identity, showed him the papers, one at a time, proving Orielt and Godfrey complicit in the plot on the Duke. We warned him, too, that the skinwalker was still loose. Marshall Roehm declared he would confine Orielt and Godfrey to their quarters, once the fête was over. 20 trusted men would guard the Duke. And Roehm would take some of the papers to prove the conspiracy to the Duke.

After the reception ended, and the crowds passed, Ynnivax came to gives us the news that Godfrey had gone quietly to his room, while Orielt raged and had to be bound. Gazelle took both their magic talismans. The Duke, furious, demanded the right to try them both under the King’s Law. Callista, the Captain of the Duke’s Guard was astonished; clearly Veckstos had failed to brief her before the reception. And Vekstos was nowhere to be found. We all set a password so we could know each other, with a skinwalker on the loose.

Come sundown, we were escorted to the kitchen, a fine place to snag a plate from the foods prepared but not served at the cancelled state dinner. As we made for our rooms for the night, we heard a great commotion, and a Duke’s Guardsman rushed to me, gave the password, and told me, “There is a monster in the Duke’s chamber!”

We ran towards the sounds of battle. The door to the Duke’s room glowed a dark pulsing purple, jolting the guards as they tied to open it. Joran quickly dispelled the magic, and a guard kicked the door open. The Duke was gasping, badly injured, and three beleaguered guards were fighting a viciously animated bed!

Fergus charged at the bed-beast, while Mazlor cast dispel magic at it (to no effect). I summoned insects from the Keep, but the Keep had been scoured so that only centipedes and earwigs and ants responded, and they were too slow to make a difference in the battle. Joran ran to the Duke with a potion, then helped him to the door, where she casts a healing spell on him. Mazlor met them there with two more potions, and the Duke is nearly good as new.

The bed-beast killedone of the guards, and nearly offed Fergus twice, but Fergus hit it a few times, and I got in a good smash with my cudgel before some guards came up and finished it. As the beast perished, Pyrea’s friend Joseph – who turned out to be the Duke’s court wizard – and Marshal Roehm arrived and conferred with us. Joesph wanted the Duke safely back in Rondorin, and he had a way to get him there!

In the basement, Joseph showed us a magical gateway, one of an ancient network that connected all the keeps before the Doom, and swears us all to secrecy. After rotating some stone disks so the right symbols showed (Here Fergus’ strength and my keen eyes were most appreciated) and an elaborate spell, the gateway opened and the Duke and Joseph stepped through, to return in a few days. Roehm would cancel all the Duke’s meetings and parties and tell everyone the Duke is recovering in secured chambers. The Duke charged Roehm to root out the conspiracy and catch the skinwalker – and Roehm turned to us, his troubleshooters.

A clue soon presented itself. That which we thought was Veckstos was actually the skinwalker in his shape. The guard he’d gone off with was slain.

As for the conspiracy, Orielt was dragged to the dungeon and a second holy symbol taken from her. She tried using a word of command but Callista punched her mouth and gagged her. We went to talk to Godfrey in his room as we took him to the dungeon.

And then such a babble of the Light this and the old gods that between Mazlor, Joran, and Godfrey. I mostly tuned it out, but one point stood out. Godfrey was converted to the Lightbringers by a silver-tongued cleric. Mayhap he’d been charmed? Perhaps the kindly Godfrey could be freed of the spell? I must talk to Joran or someone who can dispel magic. Bed first, though – well, perhaps another turn through the kitchen before that.

Balto's Journal

Rabbit stew, a lovely honey bread with butter and jam, and spiced fruit tarts for dinner! After, I meditated in the kitchen garden behind the Mug & Pot. As I finished, a grand ripe peach trembled on the branch above me – I caught it as it fell. Just as I was feeling a bit fashed and ready to look for a bedtime snack!

I was up with the dawn the next day, and I went for water with the cook. He sat me down with a crust of bread and the last of the stew from last night, while he made the morning’s porridge. Willie and Josef and Fergus came downstairs, and we were soon joined by Jorann, Mazlor, Joffrey, and Isty. Pyrea wandered in from the street, accompanied by our old companion Ragar. As the cook set some bacon to sizzling, we realized Belaldur had not come downstairs, but our concern for him was outweighed by the threat to the Duke.

I’d asked Ward to look into the Eagle Alehouse, within and below which it seemed the anti-pagan agitators were organizing. So, just as the town started to stir, we made our way back to the Militiaman & Bawd. A bleary-eyed Ward told us our suspicions had been confirmed by his spy, who’d last night heard much cheering and shouting from the Eagle’s cellar. It sounded to her like a rally.

And more news from Ward: The Lightbringers and their townfolk pawns had been sprung from the keep! The men and women guarding them had all been killed. Those in the town jail, though, were still locked up tight.

So we determined to recruit help at the Temple of the Light, then report to the Marshal, return to the Militiaman and Bawd to pick up a guide, and move through the tunnels to challenge the Lightbringers. No help was found at the Temple; though High Priestess Gazelle was very gracious to her rescuers, Godfrey and Orielt were away helping the Marshal prepare for the Duke’s visit. Gazelle gave Mazlor a couple of healing potions, showed us the Mess Hall (but no second breakfast!), and returned to her healing duties. The Temple was full of the wounded and fearful, so she did have her hands full.

We arrived at the Keep to find security so tight I’d have had trouble sneaking just myself in. And with all the noisy big folk along, well, we just had to submit to disarming and waiting for permission to enter and speak to Roehm. I had my moment of quiet rebellion in not identifying myself as a spellcaster, so at least I was not accompanied by a personal guard.

Roehm told us the escape last night had been done with someone familiar with the tunnels under the city – and one such tunnel led right by his dungeon. He berated himself for not putting men at that secret door. Perhaps a guard had been suborned, but I thought the thieves hired away from Ward would also have known.

We told the Marshal that we, too, hoped to use the tunnels to strike at a gathering of agitants. He offered a company of 10 guards from the Keep. Orielt and Godfrey’d been pestering Roehm and his men, asking for guard schedules, procedures, and protocols in advance of the Duke’s sojourn – so after some discussion we decided not to ask Godfrey to accompany us. And Mazlor advised Roehm to change the rotations, unbeknownst to Orielt, who was not to be trusted.

With nine footmen and Kelly their sergeant, we walked our horses back to Enonia, dropping our horses at the stables by the gate, then headed toward the Militiamen and Bawd. Mazlor hadsergeant to keep her forces a block away so as not to spook Ward. He was still annoyed to have Mazlor there, but signaled to me to take the party to the wine cellar. There he brought forward his spy, a diminutive human female, to be our guide through the tunnels.

Mazlor and Isty went back up to move with the guards and militiamen above ground. The rest of us went into the tunnels. We soon reached a portion of the tunnel that had been hastily floored over, and the spy told us gloomily there were bodies underneath, but it was the fastest way. The floor certainly seemed rickety, but I skipped along the edge of the tunnel with a guide rope and most of us got across. The big folk in bulky armor, though, had trouble finding safe footing, and Willie broke through the floor, fell waist deep, and started yelling that the bodies were trying to claw and bite him. Ragar and Pyrea rushed back and helped him out, but two Damned climbed through the hole Willie had made.

We ran, but the two Damned soon caught up to the rear of the party. The Damned duo were quickly dispatched, but that route is now blocked to us by the rest of the now-alerted Damned. We explored a maze of passages and found a secret door, but I couldn’t work out how to make it open. Meanwhile, in the largest undercellar room, an orator was working a couple dozen townsfolk into a frenzy, before introducing the rioter ringleader, Marcus.

Mazlor and Isty have made their way to join us, and Kelly’s team (minus a few militiamen detailed to hold exits) soon after. As Marcus begins talking, Joffrey blessed our party; Pyrea cast a shield on herself; Jorann cast hold on both guards; Mazlor cast silence on a stone which I slinged just past Marcus.

Marcus and the man who introduced him leapt off the stage into the crowd, trying to escape the realm of silence. We charged into the room, Mazlor ordering the townsfolk to hit the floor or be declared resistors. Well, of course, half the crowd couldn’t hear him, and the rest bleated like sheep in their panic! Further, two Lightbringer fighters burst into the room, causing more consternation. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t use any spells!

Mazlor cast a hold spell on Marcus and his lieutenant, and Pyrea cast a webbing spell on them (and half the crowd besides). Ragar got two arrows into one of the Lightbringer guards; he turned and fled a couple of steps before Pyrea cast hold on the fleeing guard and a group of townsfolk trying to flee past him. I put a sling bullet into the fleeing guard’s brain. The other guard surrendered. The townsfolk caught in the web were screaming bloody murder, so Pyrea cast sleep on most of them, and the others pretended they too were dozing. Kelly cleared all the living and unwebbed Lightbringers out of the way, while I freed a few coins from the dead man’s pouch.

Meanwhile, Marcus spat out angry words and tried to rally his remaining follower. Ragar suggested quiet would be the less painful choice, but he ignores her hint. Ragar and Fergus made a stronger argument with their arrows. I tried a trick shot, hoping to knock a few teeth out, but my stone was caught in the web. Serves me right for trying to show off. Afew more taunts from him greatly challenged Mazlor, but Marcus eventually shut up.

Waiting for the webs to dissipate, I went with Pyrea, Josef, Jorann, and Joffrey to look at the door at the end of the corridor from which the two Lightbringers had sprung. Pyrea heard from behind the door the rattle of chains and a low moan. The room had a pair of cages against the rear wall. One held a man – delerious, ill, and shackled to the ceiling – in a tattered and bloodstained uniform of the Duke’s forces. Joran quickly cast a healing spell and he breathed some easier. I make short work of picking the locks on the cages and chains. Josef looks through a window in the wall behind the other cage and sees a drunk troll and a very nervous militiaman.

We gave the Duke’s man some water, but he was not recovering his wits. We took him to Mazlor, then returned to explore further – one more door, which turned out to be to Marcus’ room. My lockpick snapped as I try to open his chest, so whatever treasures are in there are lost to the Temple of the Light. Pyrea and Jorann gathered up all the papers.

Mazlor had begun to send our troops and prisoners up. I expect this lot would go to the Keep – ought to be some room there now. Joaran kept ministering to the man we rescued. He was more himself now, and thankful he was rescued, but anxious to get a warning out to the Duke.

This man is named Veckstos, and he had been guarding Collin, the Duke’s Secretary. He told a chilling tale of how first Collin, and then the partner of Veckstos, Aschton, had been killed and replaced by a shapeshifting monster. The monster was named Reezus (by the sun and stars, these humans have odd names!) and he is the mastermind behind the plot on the Duke and the anti-pagan furor.

Mazlor left off questioning Marcus and moved to his lieutenant, but to no avail. The web had yet to dissolve, so Joran cast dispel magic, releasing all from its sticky embrace – and cancelling the hold as well. Marcus instantly cast sanctuary on himself, and his lieutenant got ready to fight. Ragar puts an arrow through the orator’s skull. Marcus ran for his room, but Joran and Isty took him out. I suggested Marcus be searched and Mazlor declared anything on his person will be taken to the Temple of the Light. So I shrugged and took the purse from the orator, instead.

Mazlor quickly looked over Marcus’ correspondence, and was shocked to discover that Godfrey had been deep in the plot against the Duke and supporting the Lightbringers for many months. Orielt, too, though of course we had all thought that already.

And it’s midday, and the Duke is due any minute now! I suspect I’ll be missing yet another meal!

Balto's Journal

The trip to Jakar’s Rest had been peaceful, and I had gloried in the chance to get away from all the tumult of the city. On the way back to Enonia the next day, though, we came upon a man staggering about, clutching his chest.

As my uncle had lamented, I have always been too trusting! I dismounted to aid him, while Willie and Josef kept a wary eye out for any ambush. I gave the traveler water as he clutched at my arm; he declared himself better, remounted his horse, and trotted off, looking a bit nervous. Then I discovered my purse had been untied! There was nothing missing – I must have instinctively jerked away from him while he tried to pick my pockets – but for the principle of the thing, we raised a hue and cry and chased him a few minutes. I took some gentle chiding from Willie and Josef for not recognizing such an obvious ploy, but we were all amused that this lesson cost me nothing but time.

We ate second breakfast in the saddle, but broke for lunch as we met some returning Meesha-followers on the road. We shared our food, they their drink and flowers – and news of further unrest in Enonia. Truly, what trouble is caused by such nonsense as religion! Even those who come closest in their worship to the reverence with which I hold the natural world, by focusing their attention on only an aspect or avatar, blind themselves to the wisdom of others. Mayhap the Meeshans come closest to my views.

At any rate, forewarned we approached the city warily, and checked in at the Mug & Pot. None of our companions were there, so we went next to the Temple of the Light – well-meaning folk there, but they look at only one part of the natural world and put it on a pedestal! As though night must not follow day, winter not give way to spring, hunter and prey not dance with each other. But I digress….

A deacon at the temple told us our party had gone seeking books, perhaps at Parabellum’s so we headed there. Fergus quickly filled us in – Collin, the Duke’s secretary was dead! and a magical double had taken his place. The Temple of the Light and the Marshal had been notified, but the Duke was yet away and unaware. A network of old tunnels linked various of the buildings of Enonia, and Ward was displeased that they were coming to the attention of the authorities. The city had stayed in tumult since the pagan parade, and we could see smoke and hear rioting from the area by the Temple of Tangadorin. We headed there, my hope being to spare the bakery from looting and ruin – I wanted more of Turgon’s Tasty Treats!

On the way, arrows rained down on us from the rooftops. Belaldur was injured, but the archers broke and ran. They descended to the street and headed north, getting closer to the mob. Torrin, Jorann, Pyrea, and Joffrey had headed down to protect the bakery, the pagans, and their temples. The rest of us – Willie, Josef (also hit by an arrow), Fergus, Belaldur, Mazlor, and Itsy – gave chase to our attackers, and several turned to fire at us again, while two started climbing back to the rooftops. I called to some insects in the area and harried one off the wall, then sent the swarm against another who was trying to flee. The rest escaped, calling, “Back to the Eagle!” While Beladur and Fergus trussed up our captive, I went back to heal Josef. Willie and Fergus took him back to the Mug and Pot. Belaldur, Itsy, Mazlor, and I went to the Militiaman & Bawd to check in with Ward.

The pub was closed, but Ward let us in. He identified our prisoner as a worthless rogue named Karl, who’s been hiring men away from Ward’s organization. At Ward’s suggestion, the clerics went out to tend to the wounded. Then Beladur questioned Karl for us, Ward putting a dagger tip beneath a thumbnail for emphasis. Karl had been hired by a Light Bringer priest, Marcus – blond, tall, shiny armor that would make him a focus in any fight. Oh, and Marcus had not just sent Karl’s archers to kill us – other bands, hidden near the pagan district and by the Temple of the Light, had orders to take us down, as well. Karl bore us no ill will – he’s no fanatic, just wanted the gold. His employer and crew, at the Eagle’s Alehouse, he had no particular loyalty to, judging by how quick he gave them up.

Ward told Belaldur of a back way through the tunnels to the Eagle’s Alehouse. Ward offered to lead us there to confront Marcus, but worried we were too few. I went to call back in Mazlor and Itsy, and we all left Karl in Ward’s care as we went back to the bakery to collect the rest of our party, and to snack on the last of the cakes. It was near suppertime, so we went back to the Mug & Pot for dinner and conversation.

Jorann's meditation

I find myself with a few calm moments and I look back at the events of the last few days.
Grel came back to town with news of a plot to assassinate the Duke and lay the blame on our Temple. Joffry and Lidia returned to Enonia and much to my delight, Joffry has been anointed by Tangadorin as a fellow priest. Kjeld decided it was time to come out of hiding and have a parade for the Old Gods. I knew trouble would follow, but Tangadorin would want his name spread, so I agreed. All in all, the parade went better than expected, only near the end did some hooligans disrupt it. A small fight broke out which I was unable to stop, but none was seriously hurt. The city guards told us to disperse, and that was the end of it, or so I thought.
The next day, some unknown trouble maker roused a mob to attack the worshippers of the old gods. Things were getting far out of hand. The marshal’s men put a swift and fairly brutal end to the uprising.
We decided to seek out the Duke’s assistant who was already in town. We never saw him, just some of his guards. Mazlor heard about a haunted house where the residents were worried, and since we had nothing better to do we investigated. Turned out there are secret tunnels al throughout Enonia. One was under the house. We followed it and found two men burying an indistinguishable body. We apprehended them and had them lead us through the tunnels. We took the body to the Temple of the light. There Mazlor and Averin conversed with the corpse and found out that it was the Duke’s assistant. He had been killed and apparently replaced with a doppleganger just as Irem was.
Things look very bad, I am not sure how this will turn out! I pray to Tangadorin that he will help defend his people, and help reveal the truth of this awful plot.
The next day, we went to the Temple of the light, to perhaps get aid in our search. Averin told Mazlor that the High preiestess of Rhonderin was on her way, but she feared for her safety. As hers was a voice of moderation and acceptance, we decided it would be a good idea to see to her safety. A good thing too, for we foiled an ambush set to attack her. In all honesty, we were not doing spectacularly. We were greatly outnumbered and Things were not going well. Gizelle called for everyone to stand down, which we did. Then I went forth with the leader of the ambush to explain. The other cleric tried to convince Gizelle that we were there to attack her and he was there to defend her. I tried to explain the truth, but with Mazlor held, I feared this would not end well. Gizelle used a spell to determine who was lying, and promptly dismissed the lightbringer. With the help of her and her guards, we dispatched the lightbringers and took most prisoner. We escorted Giselle back to Enonia and sent the lightbringers to the Marshall’s jail.
The next morning, we awoke to news that the lightbringers had all escaped. We finally got to see the Marshal and told him of the plot and secret tunnels. He belatedly remembered that there was a tunnel leading in to the dungeon which he then caused to be locked and guarded. The Marshal told us that Orielle and Godfrey had been questioning him profusely about the guards and preparation for the Dukes arrival. Mazlor told him that they were not to be trusted and he should prepare some contingencies. We asked for some men to help us with a planned raid on a lightbringer stronghold, and he gave us 10 men.
Ward had informed us that there was some gathering going on in the basement of the Militiamen and the Bawd. We decided that Mazlor and the men would attack from the ground, and the rest of us would go in through the secret tunnel. On our way, we encountered some damned which effectively cut off any retreat. We managed things quite well, with Mazlor’s team gaining access from above, and us from below. We managed to capture the ringleader Marcus. The orator was killed, and many townsmen taken prisoner. We managed to rescue a former guard of the duke named Vextos.
We then rushed back to the temple, grabbed Giselle and went to the keep. Unfortunatly, we were too late! The Duke had arrived! We made our way into the keep after the Duke’s party. By This time, it was just me, Joffrey, Mazlor, Itsy, Fergus, Balto, Vilheim and Joseph, Giselle and Vextos
The marshal had us taken to the Barracks, where we were detained. Vextos was eager to report to the commander of the guard. Giselle had a guard escort him to the commander to report. Then she left to prepare for the feast. Eventually, we were escorted to the Marshal’s study to wait for him to speak with us. When he finally came in, Mazlor showed him the papers that we had discovered in Marcus’s lair that implicated Godfrey and Dame Oriele. He took a few to show to the Duke and arranged to have both of them arrested. Yinnivax came in shortly after and told us that Godfrey had gone quietly, but the Dame went screaming and shouting. We asked about Vextos, but no one had heard from him. Kalista, the captain of the Duke’s guard came in, and when we told her about the skinstealer and Vextos, she was surprised, Vextos had never reported in. It seems that Vextos was the skinstealer! The body of the guard who escorted him was found. Mazlor, Fergus, Balto and I were allowed to sleep in the kitchens to stay near at hand, but Joffrey, Itsy, Josef and Vilheim had to stay in the barracks. In the middle of the night. a gurd came and told us there was a struggle going on, the Duke was in danger! We ran to the Duke’s chamber, but there was a magical shield on the door and the guards couldn’t get in. I quickly dispelled it, and we broke through. We found the Duke gravely injured and three guards fighting an animated bed. I ran to the duke and gave him a healing potion. I would have healed him there, but he wanted to get out immediately. So, while Fergus and Balto helped fight the bed, I helped the Duke out of the chamber. Once he was out, I cast a cure spell on the Duke, the guards almost attacked me while I was at it, but Mazlor assured them it was ok. The Marshal came with the Duke’s mage Joseph. Mazlor and I did not wish to leave the Duke’s side while he was in danger, so the Marshal, the Duke, Joseph, Mazlor and I all went to the basement where Joseph swore us to secrecy, as he took the Duke to a magical chamber which he activated to send the Duke back to Rhonderin. The Duke said he would be back in two days, and charged the Marshal with finding the skinstealer. The Marshal then charged us with the task! We have two days to find and kill or capture the skinstealer! This seems to me to be a form of Chaos magic., I suspect Grel will be up to this task. I must meditate and commune with Tangadorin.

Balto's Journal

With the end of the Black Riders’ reign in the North, most of our party made for Enonia. Belaldur was bound to protect the Duke, after all. Fergus – with Willie and Josef in tow – Mazlor, Itsy, Toran, Pyrea, Creresai, and someone’s man Joffrey gathered with us to discuss things with Joran over lunch.

The worshippers of the old gods were planning a festival, followed by a celebratory march through to the center of town. The Enonia Temple of the Light was officially neutral, but the townsfolk were none too pleased. “The old gods have no power,” they jeered, but also: “We let them live and worship, just let them do it where we don’t have to see it!” “Why must they flaunt their wicked ways?” “Backsliders and heretics – nothing but trouble coming!” “Those old gods – demons more like! – brought the Doom upon us!”

The 21st day of Summer, the followers of Tangadorin and Vanir gathered on the street in front of Tangadorin’s Temple. Messha’s flock also was there, handing out flowers to all, and I spied Wikton from the South, who favored not Vanir, but some other blacksmith avatar. And Fergus revealed his affection for the old man we had met on the road, Almund, who he said was yet another god. Grel flew overhead on his magic horsey. Music played, flowers were woven into hair and pinned to tunics, banners were painted – and tables groaned with food and wine and beer flowed from kegs. Eventually, Joran imposed some order and the parade began.

The streets were lined with onlookers, some curious, some angry. Mazlor, I saw, spoke to a large group of them and led away perhaps three dozen. I kept pace with the parade behind the crowd. I watched for those most vehement against the old religions; while their attentions were thus diverted, I helped myself to a few purses.

The pagans reached the marketplace, many of them quite drunk – the kegs had come with them! A half dozen townsmen with cudgels stormed up, shouting “Just go! Your gods are not welcome, nor are you!” Some of the pagans were angry, too, but for a time Joran kept the peace. I continued to use the distractions to enrich myself.

And then the thugs swung their clubs at the Meesha worshippers, right by me. I knocked one back and intimidated him into flight. Fergus and Ceresei grappled another down. The town guard showed up, broke up the small fights around the square, and ordered the marchers to disperse.

After a little business and a snack with Seralno, I met my party at the Mug & Pot for dinner. Beladur had been seen on the rooftops during the parade (I must speak to him about hiding in shadows.). The Falcons had been seen, and most of the Heroes of the Duchy, protecting the pagans from attack. Not good, as we’d wanted to keep a low profile and deflect attention away from the pagans.

We were at the Mug & Pot not just for its fine victuals, but because the Duke’s Secretary had a room there. He’d arrived a few days before, to prepare for the Duke’s visit. We’d also taken a room there, as it happens just below his. I went to scout his room, found his door guarded inside and out. The Secretary was not in his room the whole night.

The next morning, Mazlor had a meeting and I was hungry. I went to Turgon’s Tasty Treats and bought half his stock for 30 gold. Turgon told me I should see the goblyns by Jakar’s Rest – they have become unworldly, lost their faces and their limbs gone gnarly and spindly. So I decided on a journey, Willie and Josef and Ceresei joining me.
Ours was a pleasant trip in the summer sun. The sweet smell of flowers wafted out to us as we approached. The goblyns – now eyeless, stoneless, barkskinned, almost trees – moved with the rhythms of the land through their garden of flowers, bees and butterflies dancing with them. The leader came to me, and I gave him the withered flowers in my hair from the parade the day before. He planted the flowers before the central tree in the garden, brought them back to life, then sat to meditate. Giddy with awe and joy, I danced back to my pony.

We headed then to Jakar’s Rest. It was midafternoon when we arrived, and I shared out Turgon’s baked goods among the villagers. Jakar’s glaive was covered in vines and flowers, so you can’t see the weapon. Same with the three columns of Meesha’s shrine. There’s been no trouble, no harassment here, and many from the village had gone to Enonia to dance and parade and enjoy the town. We’ll likely pass them on our way back tomorrow.

Balto's Journal

I found Beladur easily enough, breaking his fast with a few companions. I joined him for a second breakfast to be sociable, and told him the message from Godfrey. Godfrey was calling in the favor Beladur owed him, the price of his being brought back to life.

I offered to join him in the trip back to Old Fawn, and he gladly accepted, saying he’d feared I’d fallen overboard or some other nautical nonsense. We ended up with a good group of adventurers – Grel, Sally, Itsy, Mazlor, Fergus, Pyrea, Belaldur, Ceresei and of course Willie and Josef I knew. Another mage, Taron, was also heading back to Old Fawn and traveled with us. Grel had hired a trainer, Yasir, who likewise came with.

On our second day, we met a man named Almund. He had a 3-legged dog and carried a raven on his shoulder, leaned on a staff and had a cloak of many shifting colors. We greeted him, and several of us felt moved to give him some coin, which he accepted gravely and for which he thanked us. He was pleased to see a follower of Tangadorin and a priest of the Light traveling together. Grel was awestruck, and I was stirred to remember a tale of an old sage named Almund, who had protected the littlelings when we first came into these lands. Fergus, too, seemed amazed. When we were done talking, Almund leapt high in the air and sailed on in the direction of Yew.

That night, we all shared a dream. Grel was standing on a plain, the rest of us behind him. He faced an iron door and he hammered on it, asked his god for help, pushed and pulled at it with assistance from Taron. Then Ceresei slapped him and we all woke, without the door opening.

In Old Fawn, Godfrey told us of a plot to kill the Duke in or around Enonia and blame the followers of the old gods. Belaldur was charged to protect the Duke. We all thought to help him in this, for our own reasons, but as the Duke had not yet left for Enonia, decided to first try to get Anastasia out of Upland Keep. Belaldur and Grel, joined by Fergus and Mazlor, pay a visit to two sage sisters known to Belaldur, and get intelligence on the chaos tower, the Natass family, and Upland Keep.

We headed to Upland Keep by way of Yew. Near the village of Arwith, we picked up a tail of thugs intent on talking to Pyria and Taron, and recruiting them to the Virridviola Guild.

We reach Yew to find Reynault has already left with his men for Pencurth. We hurry after him, as we have ambitions of sneaking into Upland Keep and opening it up for him. On the way, we run into Ivan Nattus, who does not seem to like us. The next day we rendezvous with Reynault and make our plans.

We set out for Upland Keep, slipping in through the cliff and caves. There is a bit of a fright with an undead creature, but we make it past and we all climb up the well. We quietly make our way to the main building, fight our way through the audience chamber, then upstairs. We kill the leaders, then take the gate towers and open the gates – just as Reynault’s men appear in the dawn light. We harry from inside the tower as Reynault’s men make short work of the massed forces outside the castle. After a parley, the Black Riders of Upland Keep surrender, and relinquish their treasures, in exchange for a promise of a fair hearing before the Marshal.

Balto's Journal

I slipped away from Yew to Carbaugh’s Keep and there I tarried the whole spring, reacquainting myself with the ways of my people. Or something like them, anyhow.

I had vague memories of riding out as a young child to meet the clans. My father’s farm and inn were right by a main caravan route, so we stayed in touch. After the Doom, and after we moved in with my uncle, though, there was little contact with my culture. Our foods, our ciders and wines, our stories mother and Da shared with me and my sibs as best they could. Still, we were a small collection of littlelings living among the big people. Once Da died, and mother joined with Uncle Sisko and Aunt Kiyra, there were fewer tales of heroes and wise men, more instruction in running a shop.

So I was glad to find a group of littlelings keeping traditions alive. Only, they were somewhat off from the ways of the clans that I remembered. And even a bit off from the way mother kept house and farm and inn, too. More regimented than the clans, a touch more attuned to nature and balance than my family had practiced, and then this devotion to Orlando and his secret writings.

Fun folk to spend time with, and I will treasure this season and the lessons learned – but I never quite bonded. Unless I joined their order, I could not know the teachings of Orlando – and unless I knew the teachings, I was not willing to join! At an impasse, I was relieved to receive a message from Old Fawn, summoning Belaldur to the priest who had raised him from the dead. I made my goodbyes and rode for Yew.

Exciting times in the lands of the Midlands of the Duchy of Irecia! The Duke himself, Duke Archanis Reynald, is visiting the town of Enonia to hold a war council with Marshal Roehm, Marshal Kevlin and Marshal Ynivax. Several other nobles will be attending, and some of the higher priests of the area will be joining them. It is said that the Duke’s advance retinue are already in Enonia, busy with planning for the visit. The Duke’s personal secretary, Collin Vilcin, has been seen staying in the Mug & Pot Inn.

Mercenary companies are already returning to the lands around Enonia, eager to be a part of any war plans developed in this council.

The Eagle’s Alehouse has opened again and is back in business. Following the untimely death of Avael Guntin in the Winter, the inn had been closed, but it has opened recently under new management – a gentleman named Divos Senos-son. He is reputed to cook quite well and attracts many craftsmen and merchants, unlike the previous management that had a more shady clientele.

Rumors are thick that one of the Heroes of the Duchy, Canon Mazlor, might be elevated to High Canon and become the Priest of the temple in Yew! His reputation throughout the Midlands is well known, most recently participating in the Battle of Upland Hold which broke the back of the Black Brotherhood to the north.

A pagan festival is slated to take place on the 20th day of Summer! Encouraged, perhaps, by the tolerance of the Marshal and Temple, two pagan priests by name of Kjeld and Turgon have proposed a festival to take place – a procession to the Marketplace and special booths and craftsmen who are members of these cults. It is not known if Jorann of the Tangadorin cult will take part, but considering the prominence of herself, along with the cult protector Grel, it’s not likely they’ll miss this celebration. This announcement is not without controversy, as the bills posted around town about the festival have been defaced or torn down.

Letter to Jorann

Jorann,

I have a great deal to tell you, our latest mission was a complete success! With the aid of Sir Reynald, we successfully took Upland hold, and freed Anastasia!
We were about to leave to meet with Sir Reynald to plan the assault on the keep, when Balto received word from Godfrey that he was calling in the favor that he had extracted from us to raise Beladur from the dead. Though we wanted to go straight to Upland hold, a promise must be kept. So, we went to Old Fawn to meet with Godfrey and repay the debt.
On the way, we met a God! It was the same God that Joffrey dreamed about. The man with the three legged dog and the raven, who said “ You walk with my brother, but you also walk with me.” His name is Almonde, he spoke with us at some length questioning what I get from serving Tangadorin and what Tangadorin gets from my service. When he took his leave from us, he leapt away and was soon lost to sight! Then his raven told me that, the enemy of your enemy is not your friend, do not open the door lest you release something that is best left alone. This is not an exact quote, but was in reference to the chaos tower which I had admitted was much on my mind and that I did burn to reveal the secrets within.
That night, our entire party shared a dream where I stood before one of the doors from the chaos tower and I was trying to open it. I was pushing with all my might and it was starting to give. I saw a glimpse of a green tower within, but then Cerasaii woke me up.
I must admit, that I had more than a few reservations in promising to pay an unknown favor, but the payment is something that I would have been compelled to do even without the debt. He told us that he had heard word of a plot against the Duke, and our Temple as well! He told us that he had heard whisperings that the Dame had instigated a plot to endanger the Duke and cast the suspicion upon our Temple in order to get a royal edict to empower and legitimize the Lightbringers.
Obviously, this would result in the you, me and Torak all being publicly executed. Weather the Duke will be harmed or just threatened is unclear, but in order to implicate our temple, it must occur in or near Enonia. Godfrey told us that the Duke is planning to come to Enonia in the near future, and that this is almost certainly when the attack will occur.
I suggest that you have Torak report to the Temple immediately! We must be prepared.
We decided that since the Duke had not yet begun travelling, we had enough time to assault the keep and still get back to Enonia before the Duke. That night, Beladur took us to meet two sisters who he felt might be able to shed light on this Almonde and the strange dream our group had after we met him.
They told us that Alfred and Gerald are obviously doing rituals with demons. They also told us of a green tower held by the Nvond family a bit east of the chaos tower. There must be some link.
They told us that Almonde is a God of travelers, and that Tangadorin gains power from our revealing secrets and shedding light on lost knowledge.
We asked them to research into the magical chamber in Upland hold, this could be important information.
Then we headed back to Yew. Reynald had already left to Pencurth, so we hurried on our way there. We found him and decided upon our plan. We would sneak in and take out the leaders and Reynald would assault the front.
We snuck in with no problems, climbed up the well and snuck right over to the building where we knew the leaders were. Everything went remarkably well. We took out the military leader Lon and took him prisoner. Then we made it up to the second floor before the first alarm was sounded. We took out the guards and freed a few prisoners who told us where the mage was. We found her withought much problem, and with a successful silence spell, she only got off a single spell before Pyria killed her. Anastasia was freed from the enchantment, and we were ready to make our escape.
We took Lon, and went to the first gate tower, wher we took out the guards and released the weights, then to the second tower. We spiked the door, killed the gaurds and opened the gate. Then we signaled Reynald to attack.
Reynald’s forces killed 60 men without taking a single casualty and the rest broke and ran. Meanwhile the castle forces were pouring out while we shot arrows and spells at them. We threw Philopote’s dead body down and told them that there leaders were vanquished. They surrendered and we were able to take the keep.
We are all on our way to Enonia now to protect the Duke. We are bringing Anastasia to reunite her with Marshal Raimes. Reynald is also on his way as I felt I had to inform him of the danger to his brother. He is clearly a man of honor and loyalty and I always have problems not talking, so…..
We shall be with you soon, put everyone on the alert. We will certainly need to inform the Marshal of the possible threat. Be careful not to make any accusations as we have no proof of anything yet. As of right now, it is a possible threat, that I believe, but that is all we know.

Grel’s report to Jorann at the Temple

Greetings High Priestess,

I hope this message finds you well, and that all is well in Enonia.

Allow me to fill you in on our latest adventure. Our group spent most of the spring hunting the Black Riders. Taran, Fergus, Beladur, Pyria, Mazlor, Sally, Itsy, Josef, Vilheim and I decided to scout Upland Hold to find out what was going on. We were granted ten men to accompany us by Marshal Yinnivax. We decided to try to get word out that we were a heavily provisioned group on our way towards the mountains. We stopped in pentacurth and pretended to be waiting out the storm. A few went to Ironham to let out word of our plans, then returned with one of the traitors.We waited a few days, and finally ten Black Riders came and demanded our provisions. We killed some and captured the rest.
We continued on our way, and were soon attacked by 20 Black Riders. We took out most of them and captured the rest. We then returned to Marshal Yinnivax with the prisoners and news tha we had seriously depleted the forces in Upland Hold.
Hopefully, we can soon mount a true assault on the Keep!

Incidently, I hope you can recruit a couple young priest to come to Old Fawn to start spreading word of Tangadorin. The Marshal has already agreed to allow it.

Grel’s report to Jorann at the Temple

High Priestess,

A strange adventure occurred that I must inform you of. Malor, Sally, Itsy, Beladur, Taron and I set out once again to rescue Anastasia. We had little difficulty reaching Upland Hold and made our way into the secret entrance. This is where things became odd. After we entered, there was a ledge 10 feet up and Beladur decided to climb it. Suddenly, he was caught by something and was being pulled up. I grabbed his legs to pull him back, but it was too strong. I won’t go into too much detail, suffice it to say it was a bit hairy, but we defeated the cave fisher and continued exploring. While exploring, we passed a stairway which Beladur decided to look into. This seemed to disturb the undead Licht?/Wight? Creature that was standing guard. We beat a strategic retreat, but it followed. Eventually Mazlor was able to turn it. Allowing us to raid it’s chamber and take a chest full of gold. We continued on, and Beladur was attacked by Rock men. I used Tangadorin’s gift of comprehension to talk to them and convinced them we meant no harm. They called themselves the lost, since they had been ensorcelled into these creatures and could not leave or remember their lives.
We continued on and found a pool with columns and a hole in the ceiling. It turned out that this was the bottom of a well in the keep. We continued and found the entrance into a storeroom below the keep. There was a trap door which led to a room with a door. Outside that door was a barracks with sleeping soldiers. We decided not to continue further at that time. While investigating the storeroom, we found a passage to a chamber of extremely powerful magic! Could you please check with the sages in Enonia and find out if there is some hidden magical history of this keep? This was clearly a level of magic far beyond anything I have ever seen. This definitely needs to be investigated by people who know what they are doing. I fear to touch anything in that chamber. On our way back, Beladur climbed the well and looked around, Then Mazlor tried to Dispel the magic on one of the rock men. It worked! He then tried it again on the other 6, 2 did not survive, but the other four were freed. We took the 5 survivors to Pentacurst and left themwith Girault.
Please get back to me with anything you can fnd on the history of Upland Hold.

Grel’s report

High Priestess Jorann,

I am bursting with excitement to tell you of my recent doings. The most important (to me) is that I have pleased Tangadorin enough that he has granted me my Paladin’s Warhorse, and a more fantastic steed has never graced a warrior. It is no ordinary steed! It is a magical entity. It looks like a winged horse, but it is not wholly (but it clearly is Holy) visible. It seems to be formed of the clouds. When I mount it, I feel closer to Tangadorin than I have ever felt when not in His actual presence. Tangadorin has told me that it has incredible speed, although I have not put that to the test yet. But most amazing of all is that it flies! You can’t imagine the joy in flying on the back of the corporeal proof of your God’s love! It is a truly amazing feeling.
But I fear I have digressed from my report. Forgive me for that, but I am still awed by this incredible gift. Much has been going on up here to the north. As you no doubt have heard, Sir Yinnivax has been named Marshal. We went to see him to congratulate him. Also, we figured we would see what he knew of the apparent turning of Anastasia, Marshal Raimse’s daughter.
He was pleased to see us, and told us that he had three main problems and he would appreciate our help in any of them. First, there was Notchland keep to the East, Second, the Goblins to the South and Third, the Black riders to the North in Upland hold. From our earlier scouting, we had found that Anastasia was in Upland hold. We also found evidence that she was in the company of a Black rider female mage. We think there is a possibility that she has been charmed.
I spoke to the Marshal about Tangadorin. He has agreed that Tangadorin’s preist are free to come to Yew and tell people of Tangadorin’s way. This would of course mean they would have to help out in any way they could, but I am sure that they would wish to help anyway. He has not yet agreed to a Temple, but I feel sure that in time, he will allow it. You will need to see if Tangadorin can provide some priests for the new posting.
We decided to head there with the hope of rescuing Anastasia, and gaining intel for Marshal Yinnivax.
Mazlor (with Sally and Itsy), Fergus (with Josef and Vilheim), Pyria, a new adventurous mage named Tanner, and myself set off. Mazlor decided to see if a priest named Girault wanted to come as we were planning to scout out Pentacurst, the town he had just been forced to evacuate on our way. He was very willing and brought along two veterans who had told us of a secret entrance into Upland hold.
Our journey was uneventful, until we were about a day’s ride from Pentacurst. That’s when we encountered 4 humans running away from 20 goblins. I charged in with my fellow adventurers close behind and we were able to rescue the humans and defeat the goblins. I should point out that the new mage accounted himself quite well. He put a half dozen to sleep with a single spell. Vilheim was a bit put off as he went under too, but he seemed quite impressed with the results.
Pyria managed to tie one up for questioning. This is where I am deeply troubled. For not only did Pyria deceive the unfortunate goblin that she would let him go. But then when we had finished questioning it, she did release it, but only to kill him as he ran away. I am deeply troubled by this and am not sure how Tangadorin would wish me to respond. I can’t very well attack her as she is a friend and companion, nor do I feel I can refuse to heal her if she is in mortal danger. However, I feel that this action was wrong. Do you think a stern talking to would be sufficient response? Your guidance would be appreciated.
We spoke to the four humans who were from a small hamlet called Ironhill, not too far away. We agreed to accompany them home. On the way, one of them told us of a strange habitation nearby. Five stone buildings where two elder gentlemen lived. We were a bit curious, so we decided to check it out. AS I got close to the buildings, my senses told me that the center building reeked of Chaos, and magic. It was very disturbing. I knocked on one of the buildings, but the occupant would not come out. Mazlor knocked on the other building and had more success. The older man agreed to allow us to spend the night, but asked that we not bring fire into the circle of buildings, and to stay away from the center building. The sense of chaos was too troubling for me to remain, so I camped away from the structure. The rest of the party remained. A few hours later I heard an explosion and a blast of light. When I went to investigate, I found Fergus unconscious and fried, along with two sheepish looking magic users. Apparently, they had convinced Fergus to attempt to jimmy the lock on one of the doors of the center building. A metal Demonic face which was the keyhole had bitten clean through his dagger and then hit him with a lightning bolt. He came within an inch of total death. We all decided that it would be a good time to leave.
I am also troubled about this. As a servant of Law and Order, I am naturally opposed to Chaos. However, these old men did not challenge us and were in fact quite reasonable. I felt that I should have done something about this Chaos, but I couldn’t very well go and break down their door and demand answers. That would not be Lawful. How should I have handled this? On further reflection, I wonder if I had announced that I am a servant of Law, and that I require answers as to this Chaos magic, do you think that would have been wise?
We continued on to Ironhill, where Fergus needed to rest for a week to recover. While there, I converted 6 new followers to Tangadorin’s light. Shortly thereafter was when I prayed to Tangadorin to beseech him for my steed. What with the new converts, and the pathway to acceptance in Yew, Tangadorin was very pleased. There was a great deal of awe when the people saw Aethir, my steed. I am sure it will be a story told for many years! We continued on to Pentacurst, which had been abandoned. Girault decided to stay, but allowed one of his men to continue with us to Upland hold to show us the secret entrance. It was a small entrance high up on the cliff of the back of the keep. I scouted it a bit on Aethir, but was not able to gain much information. I also flew over the keep to get an idea of the internal layout. I was surprised to see how similar it was to the keeps surrounding Irecia. There were only a few guards. Nonetheless, we decided that we had enough information for now, and needed to return to civilization.

Greetings Joffrey and Nidia, I hope that this letter reaches you and that you are doing well.

I am pleased with your choice of direction, trust that Tangadorin will guide you where He wills you to go.

I am very interested in your dream, I have never heard of this being. Perhaps it is one of Tangadorin’s brother Gods? I will meditate and perhaps Tangadorin will reveal the truth to me.

The questions that you ask are ones that I myself have been asking for some time. I have been studying the WORDS OF TANGADORIN much lately, trying to find how I can serve Him better, and what he wants. What I have found is that the darkness has a few connotations. Obviously the All Seeing, All Hearing, All Knowing Tangadorin hates the concealing darkness and those who dwell in it. However, there is more to it than that. The darkness is also secrets and forgotten or hidden knowledge. Our god is one who wants knowledge to be shared and freely given. He abhors lies and concealment. We must strive to be open books, seek out lost or hidden knowledge and share what you learn. He does love sages and scholars and wizards, but he abhors secrets which unfortunately some of them

The worship of Tangadorin is worshipping of enlightenment, for He is the Lightbringer in more ways than one. His true gift is enlightenment, the revelation of knowledge and secrets. Anyone who wishes not to have the truth hidden from them should gladly swell our ranks. We are the seekers of Truth and Knowledge. This is what you must tell people.

I pray to Tangadorin to keep you safe and to guide you in your journey. If you need anything, you have but to ask.

Despite the weather outside which continues to be frightful, the bards in the Inns and taverns have quite a tale to tell! Crowds have been gathering to hear of an amazing story that has come from beleaguered Duchy of Dawn!

The Duchy’s remaining two cities, Reach and Ancturin, knew that the Orcs would come ravening at their doorsteps, and in the Summer of 58AD, that is exactly what happened. As the remaining armies of the Duchy fled to the harbor city of Reach, the orcs pursued them relentlessly. Faced with the prospect of a long siege against a huge orc invasion, without hope of help, the City Council reached an astonishing decision – evacuate the ENTIRE city!

The population of Reach fled up the road towards Ancturin for nearly thirty days as the remaining armies followed behind to protect them. Couriers were sent to Ancturin to warn of them of what was coming. Every available ship was sent to the Bay of Ancturin, as those who would want to flee the Duchy would take the sea merchant’s route down the coast to the Duchy of Pisces and safety. A small force was left in Reach to serve as a rear guard and keep the Orcs delayed.

The plan worked! The small human contingent managed to keep the Orcs off-balance with bravery and luck, while the remainder of the forces and population made it to the Bay of Ancturin. Faced with a similar decision, the leaders of Ancturin, which is one of the original cities of humanity, made a similar decision. Evacuate! There were enough ships to hold the vast majority of both populations. Every available sea-worth vessel was used, from large merchant carrocks, to military ships, to small fishing vessels. The armies of Reach, Ancturin and the Ducal forces set up to fight to the last man to allow the common folks to escape.

The first ships have made it safely to Amfrey’s Point with this news (which came by way of merchant ships from that harbor town to Orleans and then through the Southron Duchy to Enonia.) so none know yet if all of the populations were evacuated… and who survived of the brave armies that faced to Bestial hordes.

The story is so popular that several songs have been sung over and over about it, but there is more news from closer to home…

The village of Penkurth has fallen, with the remaining survivors making their way to Yew. A large force of the Black Brotherhood raided the village and managed to destroy or drive out the defenders. Priest Girout, the leader of the village, survived the attack, but was wounded. Astonishingly, some of the survivors claim that Marshal Roehm’s daughter, Anastasia, was seen with the raiders!

Sir Reynald has been injured! As part of the feasting days during Winter, he and his company were performing a winter’s joust, and he was severely injured in a fall from his horse. Sir Reynald will recover and should be back in the saddle by Spring time.

In a surprise announcement and visit, Marshal Roehm has visited Yew with wonderful news – Sir Yinivax has been exalted to the highest rank and honor that the Duke can bestow and made him the Marshal of the lands around Yew! Marshal Ynivax will need to free Notchland Keep from the orcs in order to assume the traditional seat of the Marshal of Yew, but in the meantime, he continues to oversee the rebuilding of Yew and protection of its citizens.